


Last Legacy: Sunbound

by Maybeanartist02



Category: Last Legacy (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Rewrite, Toxic Relationships, mentions of abuse, mentions of past death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 41,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29715102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maybeanartist02/pseuds/Maybeanartist02
Summary: Anne was pretty sure that after getting involved with the RFA and Mint Eye, she could leave her dangerous adventures behind her, but when she and Yoosung are visiting a convention, she realises that that was much easier said than done.[None of the characters are mine. RFA belong to Mystic Messenger, everyone else belongs to Fictif aside from Anne and Sav.]
Relationships: Felix/MC, Felix/Player | Cosplayer (Last Legacy | Fictif)
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Anne**

In the beginning of the year, I’d found myself being texted by an ominous number who offered me a position as a game tester of a mobile game. They told me if I accepted, I would be living in the headquarters for the testing period. As I was trying to escape my abusive ex—I accepted, seeing it as an easy out.

I was driven out of the city, to a building. I wasn’t allowed to see any part of the trip, but when I was introduced to the “Game”, I learned it was revolving around the RFA, a charity organisation which consisted of V--the late founder’s fiancé—and the five members, 707 aka Luciel, a hacker; Jumin Han, the CEO in line of C&R Jaehee Kang, Jumin’s assistant; ZEN, the actor; and Yoosung, a college freshman. I ended up discovering that this was no game, but actually a real organization, and I had been roped into a cult. 

I ended up helping V (Jihyun) move on from the cult leader, his ex, Rika, getting involved with Seven and Ray, who were twins and the sons of the corrupt prime minister, as well as having to diffuse the bomb that was Seven’s agency. 

Needless to say, I had my fair share of adventure for the year.

After everything resolved, it was around Christmas, which we all celebrated at Seven’s bunker. During this, Jumin—who I was very close to—gifted me 2 VIP passes for a convention I’d always wanted to attend: Fantasycon.

_ “As compensation, and thank you, for all you’ve done for the RFA,” he had said. _

__

_ “I…don’t know what to say,” I said. “Two…Jumin, I don’t know who I’d take?” _

__

_ He shrugged. “I’m sure Yoosung would accompany you. Perhaps even Luciel—Saeyoung. Though, I’m sure anyone would agree if asked.” _

__

_ I smiled. “Thank you so much, Jumin.” _

__

_ “It’s my pleasure.” _

__

Hence why I’m currently standing in the artists’ hall of Fantasycon with Yoosung. Yoosung had only been a fan of Last Legacy for a few months—only since Christmas, and it was summer now—but he had done an awesome job at throwing together a cosplay quickly. He was dressed as a Starsworn Knight—a new class we knew very little about—and I as his Starsworn Wizard-Healer.

As we walk into the artists hall, the various things to look at make my vision swim. Luckily, Yoosung is right there to pull me back to earth.

“Anne, look!” Yoosung gasps, excited as he grabs my arm, “there’s a poster of Ayanna and Escell!”

Yoosung points to a poster of the two most popular champions—Ayanna Anka, the engineer, and Escell Mirun, the battlemage—hanging on a pillar. He drags me over to look at it from up close, drawing the attention of a nearby con-goer.

“Oh! Your cosplays look awesome!” she gasps. It’s a girl in a bunny Ileptha cosplay, covered in pastel colors. Her excitement brings a smile to my face.

“Yours too!” I grin, “your clothes look so soft!”

“Thank you!” she beams, “I’m Celena! It’s so nice to meet other OC cosplayers!”

I nod, “Same. I’m Anne, this is Yoosung.”

Yoosung smiles, “Hello.”

Celena nods. She glances to the picture beside us, “So? Whaddya think of the poster?”

I glance to it. I purse my lips, “I dunno what to make of it. It’s new, but do you really think we’ll just go back to Astraea with the same character—”

I turn back to Celena, but find her gone.

“Wait—” Yoosung frowns, glancing around, “where’d she go?”

“I…I don’t know,” I frown. The hall seems to be clearing out. “Maybe she got swept away to Mike Morgan’s meet and greet?”

“Oh yeah!” Yoosung gasps, “that’s soon too, right? We should go there!”

I nod, “Sure.”

Yoosung takes off, and I trail behind. As we are about to leave the hall, someone runs into me.

“Hey!” I gasp. I’m about to shout something else, when I step on something. I look down to find a staff under my shoe—a recreation of a Relic called the Astrolabe. I lean down to pick it up, and cup my hand next to my lips as I stand, “Hey! You dropped this!”

The person who I bumped into, as well as Yoosung, turn but right as they do, the staff lights up—

And a wash of bright white light blinds me. I shield my eyes with my arm and a second later—

I’m falling.

Xxx

**Felix**

With a great flash of light the spell goes off. The spell clearly took it’s toll, as is evident in the burning of my lungs as I cough—though I was expecting as much from spells of such origin.

I wipe the sweat from my cheek as I spare a glance towards the center of the spell circle. My vision swims, but there, amidst chalk and candles—

_ Rime _ .

“Five years I have dreamed of this day,” I rasp, my voice sounding hoarse even to me as my throat clogs, heavy with emotions, “when at last we would be reunited.” My eyes burn with unshed tears, “yet it seems as though neither fate nor the stars can separate us.”

I reach out, taking Rime’s hands in mine.

He’s… _ real _ .

I let out an incredulous laugh, my breathing growing heavy in my exhaustion. Even so, I croak:

“I never stopped searching for you. I never gave up.”

I lift Rime’s hand to my lips, ghosting a kiss over the knuckles. I drop his hand, my eyes flying to his face.

“Oh,” I sigh, “I’ve missed you, so much.”

In one big blur of motion, I wrap my arms around Rime. I can’t stop from shaking as I feel his solid form around me—

“I’m sorry,” a much lighter voice says—far too light—as I am gently nudged away, “but…I think there’s been a mistake. I…I don’t know you.”

My eyes widen, and I pull away. When I look at them this time, in place of Rime is…someone else.

The person sitting before me has a gentle... _ familiar _ feeling about her. She has long ginger hair pulled into a braid. She has brown skin with flecks of white, and her lips are painted a deep brown. She’s wearing the old Starsworn uniform—a badge on her chest of the symbol being her biggest give-away—and simple makeup to highlight her features.

My shoulders slump, “You’re…not Rime.” Despite the fact that this is the case, there is…a strange sense of familiarity when our eyes meet.

She shakes her head, “No, I’m not. I’m Anne,” she says, pressing a hand to her chest. “I’m…I was at Fantasycon, and I touched this…staff, the Astrolabe, and now I’m here. I don’t know how, or where, or…what.” She shrugs, “Sorry.”

Her words don’t fully register, as embarrassment and disappointment washes over me. I bury my face in my hands with a groan, my face burning in the wake of the revelation that I’ve messed up once more—this time to a truly catastrophic degree.

Tears prick at my ears, and I angrily wipe them with a hiss—“Bloody hells.”

“Um…” ‘Anne’ hums, “are you okay?”

She looks deeply troubled, and more worried about me than her own situation. How…odd.

“I will be fine,” I straighten a bit, “then, what manner of void fiend are you? Lich? Revenant? Beholder with surplus eyes?”

She frowns. “What—I’m not any of those. I’m…” she blinks, clearly considering what to say. “I’m a musician, and a barista, I guess.”

…oh dear gods.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, muttering, “It seems I’ve made a grave mistake.” I clear my throat, “Very well. Allow me to introduce myself.” I stand up, then sweep an arm behind my back and bow, as I have done countless times before—“My name is Felix Iskandar Escellun. Necromancer, house unaffiliated.”

Her eyes widen. “Wait, wait, wait—Escellun? Like magister Escell? Wait--Necromancer? Like—real life mage wizard necromancy?”

I frown. “My father hasn’t been called that since before I was born. And yes, Necromancy—what realm do you even hail from? You are clearly not from Astraea.”

“No shit,” she grumbles under her breath, “What realm? Earth I guess, but—” her eyes widen, realization dawning on her. “Wait. Did you say…Astraea?”

I quirk a brow. I nod. She lets out a huff of disbelief.

“Holy shit. This can’t—I can’t actually be in…in the  _ game _ , right?”

I frown, “I haven’t the slightest what you mean by that.”

“This…I’m not dead am I? Is this heaven?”

I can’t tell if she’s terrified, or glad. Even so, I huff.

“Is this cesspool truly how you imagine heaven?” I brush off my vest, “mildew, rubble…me? Humiliated and embarrassed beyond belief?” Involuntarily, my lip quirks into a smile, “though perhaps I should be flattered you discerned anything divine about me?”

My voice may drip with sarcasm, but I cannot help but feel slightly touched.

“If not heaven,” she says, slowly standing, “then what?”

“Another Realm,” I reply, glancing up slightly to meet her gaze, “naturally.”

“Oh,” she deadpans, rolling her eyes and cocking her hip, “Naturally.”

“You’re not dead,” I clarify, “sleep, death and the void all share similarities, but you are very much alive.” I smirk, “take it from someone who has died once or twice before.”

She smiles, seeming a bit too amused by that. “You’ve died before? Are you being serious, or just morbid like me?”

I scoff, “Me? I am not morbid! You insult me, dear barista. Though it’s not unusual to fear what you do not understand, I have devoted my life to solving the mysteries of death itself. Just look!”

I gesture to the spirits that dot the sky, pulsing with faint light. It occurs to me then, that she may not be able to see them, but when I turn to regard her—

Her eyes are wide with wonder and awe as she slowly reaches out to poke a spirit that drifts close to her face.

“What are they?” she asks, gaze flying to me, then the spirit.

“Spirits,” I explain, “typically they are hidden from mortal view, unless one has had a brush with death.” I smirk, “it seems that is one thing we have in common.”

She blinks, then laughs, the sound clear and bright. “Yeah, well. Death seems to love to lick at my heels.”

I hum. I wonder what she means by that, exactly. From what limited knowledge I have of Earth, it did not seem easy to have brushes with death there—at least not in the way it is here.

I stride onto the balcony, speaking as I move to cup my hands around a spirit: “when my spell…malfunctioned. These spirits manifested.”

I return to her side, parting my fingers to show her the spirit in my hands. The lights dance off of her face in opalescent lights, and though we’ve barely met, even I can see how beautiful she is, wreathed in colorful light.

“Beautiful,” I hum, regarding the spirit, “isn’t it?” There’s a beat of silence. 

I clear my throat, “well, all this is to say…Death can be quite beautiful.”

I release the spirit as she hums, an easy smile on her lips, “Yeah. It can. If only people could go through the effort to see that.”

I’m taken aback at her willingness to agree, but quickly stifle my surprised expression.

Her eyes lift to meet mine, “So…what else can you do? As a necromancer?”

Her question surprises me mildly again, but I nearly indulge her—when I remember that this is hardly the time, nor place.

“I’d love to tell you all about the void, the nature of death, and spirits, but now is not the time.”

“Fine,” she huffs as I walk back inside, following closely, “but you gotta promise to tell me some other time, then.”

I smirk, glancing over my shoulder. “Deal.”

“How do you know all this anyway?” she tilts her head, “The game mentions a few magic academies…did you go to one of those?”

I nod, “Indeed. I attended a prestigious academy but,” I sigh, glaring at the floor, “see where it’s gotten me. Dredging for spirits in this dreary backwater.”

Anne nods absentmindedly, “Well, school usually isn’t very practical anyway, so don’t feel  _ too _ bad.” I smile at her commentary, before her following comment kills my smile: “In the game, Necromancy wasn’t really…accepted. Have things changed?”

“No,” I deadpan. “Absolutely not.”

“Soooo,” she drawls, eyes darting about the room, “It’s still illegal.”

I flush, “Well—that is to say—”

“Is this where you reveal yourself as a criminal mastermind, Felix?” she asks, a joking lilt to her tone, a smile on her lips.

“Not at all,” I huff, “Necromancy is…well, a contentious issue. Necromancers have a tendency to be…well…”

“Dramatic?”

“Yes,” I nod, “death obsessed Egomaniacs who aim to become liches or raise undead armies.”

She smirks, quirking a brow, “but you’re different.”

I mirror her smirk with my own, “Naturally. I am but a scholar who wishes to learn about Death for…reasons.” I frown. I realize that sounds not much better…

She shrugs, “that’s fair.” She plants her hands on her hips, “if you brought me here, does that mean you can bring me back, too?”

“Yes,” I reply on instinct. I consider again, and waver a bit, “Probably. First, I’ll need the Astrolab—”

I cut myself off. She shouldn’t know that I recognize it…

“That staff you mentioned,” I correct myself, hoping she won’t have noticed. 

She quirks her brow, but nods. “Really?” she asks, eyebrows raising, “that’s all?”

I shrug. “Likely. Where is it?”

She bites her lip, averting her gaze, “I…don’t know. I touched it, it glowed, and now I’m here.”

_ …oh my gods. _

__

_ The Relic is…hers now? How? She’s not even FROM Astraea, why did it choose her? Can I undo that? I— _

__

I open my mouth, but slowly close it again. I need to gather my thoughts before I even consider how to tackle that.

“That,” I sigh, “complicates things.”

“How so?” she asks.

I shrug, “I shall explain once we’ve shed those pesky guards.”

“Guards? What—”

She jumps at the sound of banging on the door, whipping around to look at said door as she curls into herself.

“those guards,” I click my tongue, “my summoning….may have attracted some unwanted attention.” I shrug, “Ah, well. I could never resist a good show.” My lips quirk into a smirk, “Ah, did I mention we’re trespassing?”

She clicks her tongue, “Well, you could’ve mentioned that earlier!”

I give a slight chuckle at her outburst, but quickly compose myself with a long inhale. I wave my arm, summoning a portal with what little magic I have left.

“Through this portal,” I say simply. She peers into the darkness.

“Okay,” she nods, oddly okay with this, “where does it go?”

_ I don’t know. _ “To someone safe.” The door splinters and bows, briefly drawing her attention. “Now, if you could hurry,” I wince, “keeping this open is far harder than it appears.”

“Oh!” she gasps, “Right—of course.” She starts, but before she can pass through, I wave my hand, summoning her bag into my hand. I hold it out to her, “fear not, dear Barista,” I smirk, “I won’t let any harm come to you.”

Her eyes widen, and her cheeks darken as the door buckles again. She nods, pressing her lips together, then grabs her colorful bag from my hands—

And leaps into the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Anne**

Felix summons my bag—covered in patches, charms and pins—to his hands. He smirks, handing it to me, “Fear not, dear barista,” he nods, “I will not let any harm come to you.”

Taken aback by his sudden…earnesty, I nearly forget what I’m doing before the door buckles, and I flinch before grabbing my bag and hopping into the glassy darkness.

I crash land onto a desk, before flopping onto the floor. My vision swims and my back burns from the impact with the desk, and the sour taste of grapes sticks to my tongue. I groan, cradling my head in my hand, but before I can gather my bearings much—

I find a sword leveled at my face. My eyes follow the blade to the person wielding it. Said person being a woman with beautiful green eyes, reminiscent of a cat’s, elegant markings on her cheeks, and long, coiled brown hair.

She’s almost as gorgeous as Felix is.

“I’ve been expecting you.”

Wait, what!?

Cold steel bites into my throat as she gently tilts my chin up with the tip of her sword. After all these years of saying how much I wouldn’t mind being in this position, I am finally living my dreams. Yay. (that was a sarcastic “yay”.)

“Though I have to say,” she muses, “you’re one of the worst assassins I’ve ever met.”

“Wha—Assassin? I—”

“I won’t hurt you if you answer my questions,” she says coolly.

I swallow, face warm. She’s completely stolen the air from my lungs, for more reasons than one. As glad I am that I won’t die 20 minutes into my adventure, I’ve always had a weakness for sharp gazes.

“How did you get here?” she asks.

I don’t hesitate, but I do fumble as I speak:

“Th-There was a weird magic...goth guy and he was crying and kissed my hand and he made a portal but! I shouldn’t be here, really! I’m not an assassin I’m just a writer from Earth!”

Her expression morphs into shock, “You’re from Earth?”

She immediately sheaths her sword. She gestures to an armchair near the fireplace.

“Sit. Tell me your name,” she orders. 

I let out a shaky breath. I pull myself to my feet, obediently walking over to the chair, ignoring how my legs tremble. The woman casually picks up sheets of paper from the floor and sets them down next to my upturned backpack.

I swallow thickly before speaking.

“I’m Anne,” I bite my lip, “sorry for destroying your desk. I promise I’m not an assassin.”

“Don’t worry, I know,” she replies simply. “you may call me Anisa Anka.”

I perk up. “Anka? As in Ayanna Anka?”

“What?”

I bite my lip. I realize she’d have no clue what I mean, “Nevermind. It’s...an Earth thing.” I shrug, “ She’s a character. She’s a legendary Engineer, with a rifle and wit, and she’s got like, the most interesting romance in the whole franchise.”

Anisa’s expression darkens, “It’s a common last name.” She shakes her head, “I’m a knight lieutenant passing through this region. More importantly, where did you get that Starsworn uniform?”

Anisa falters. She reaches out, and I tense up, but she simply runs her fingers over the embroidery of the cloak.

“I…I made it,” I say quietly. She looks at my work with clear longing, and it feels like I should just let her.

She backs away with a radiant smile, a far cry from the stoic knight from seconds prior, “It’s truly remarkable work.”

“Oh,” I hum as she circles behind me, my cheeks burn, “Thank you.” She hums in acknowledgement as her fingers graze my shoulder.

“I suppose it doesn’t make sense for an assassin to be dressed like this,” she hums, “your outfit is far too ostentatious. Almost as though you intended to call attention to yourself.”

I grin, shrugging, “Well, I always did like standing in the spotlight.”

“You’re a thespian?” she asks. I move my head this way and that.

“That too, but I usually prefer a more musical approach.”

She hums. Then she crouches beside me, resting her arms on the arm of the chair, face in her palms, looking at me through her lashes, “So. Why are you here?”

I blink. “Oh! Well, this necromancer Felix, he…he accidentally brought me here, to Astraea. And he teleported me here, to you.”

“Felix?” Anisa says, mildly surprised. A low sigh passes her lips, “why would Felix summon you here? Are you two involved?”

My subconscious yells at me that we have been, but that’s absurd. I’ve never met him before.

“No!” I say a little too quickly. I gather myself, clearing my throat, “Er. No. We only met tonight.” My shoulders slump, “He mistook me for someone else. It was a little awkward.”

Amusement crosses Anisa’s expression. A deep rooted fondness only a long time friend could harbor.

“Felix has always been theatrical,” she says, the hint of a smile on her lips. “Were you aware that he was also Starsworn?”

“What? Seriously?”

“As am I,” she nods, “in fact, we’re two of the last remnants of the order.”

I frown. That must’ve been a short lived order, then.

“What do you mean?” I ask, “what happened?”

She sighs, standing, “Five years ago, most of the knights lost their lives defending this city, Mournfall. Only a few remain.”

Anisa returns to her desk, leaning against it as she regards me carefully.

“I’d like to know how Felix brought you here. it shouldn’t be possible, especially from Earth.”

I tilt my head, “you know of Earth?”

“I do. Just a little. I suppose you could say that studying other realms is…somewhat of a hobby of mine.” She blinks, then averts her gaze, clearly regretting disclosing such personal information.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone to know about Earth,” I confess, “considering how Felix didn’t know what a barista was.” I smirk, quirking a brow, “do you know what a barista is?”

Anisa tenses, blush dusting her cheeks. Her surprise is palpable, and utterly endearing. I laugh.

“It’s okay,” I grin, “just poking fun.”

Anisa huffs. “I get the feeling you will get along with Felix quite well.”

I grin, the idea of getting along with him weirdly comforting.

“My knowledge of Earth is sporadic at best,” Anisa says, “I had this card with a picture of a place called Orr-land-o.”

“Orlando?” I say, smirking in amusement.

Anisa grins, excitement flickering in her green eyes, “Yes! Sunny beaches as far as the eye can see. And dolphins…oh, what I’d give to see a dolphin. And perhaps catch and eat one, I imagine they’re exquisite.”

I hum, pursing my lips, “Perhaps, but that’s…also a little illegal, so maybe don’t do that.”

Anisa doesn’t seem to have heard me, so I simply let out an amused huff of laughter. I pause before clearing my throat, drawing her gaze.

“uh…thanks for not stabbing me earlier,” I say.

Anisa winces, “it was a bad first impression, wasn’t it? My apologies, Anne.” She hums, “after all, it isn’t everyday a comely woman materializes on my desk.”

…Oh?

My face burns at the remark, and Anisa seems no better off, clearly realizing what she’d said.

“…it’s so irresponsible of Felix to abandon you like this,” she blurts out, blushing furiously. “but we will need his magical expertise if we are to see you home again.”

I nod. I certainly wouldn’t mind going home.

Then again, I wouldn’t mind staying here, either.

Anisa raises a hand to her chest, “when I was young, I would dream of rescuing a princess,” I flush deeply as Anisa grins, “on my honor as a knight, I promise to see you home safely, Anne.”

Oh…

I smile, flattered by her words.

A loud knock at the door startles me. Anisa calls for the person at the door to enter, and it promptly swings open, revealing Felix—being dragged by two guards. His toes just barely hover over the floor.

“Oh, Felix,” Anisa sighs, “You’ve made a mess, haven’t you?”

Felix scowls, “Well met, Annie. Mind giving me a hand here?”

“Leave him here,” Anisa tells the guards, “thank you.”

They release Felix, who dusts off his jacket, and hand Anisa a scroll of parchment. Felix plants his hands on his hips, assuming an air of haughty superiority.

“I’ll have you know I meant to get caught.”

I huff, smirking, “Right,” I cross my arms, “just as much as I meant to forget to water my plants back home.”

He looks at me, seeming regretful until he sees my expression—smiling, a brow quirked, eyes sparkling with humor—and he relaxes.

“I’m relieved you are in one piece, regardless,” he confesses.

“Why? Was there a chance I wouldn’t be?” I ask, but as he opens his mouth, I shake my head, holding a palm up to silence him, “Nevermind. I don’t want to know.”

He huffs, “portals are simply temperamental. You could’ve landed in some abyssal trench for all I know.”

“s’ that where you landed?”

He rakes a hand through his hair smugly, “a true necromancer never reveals his secrets.”

“it says they found you thrashing in a rosebush,” Anisa clarifies, dryly.

I snort, “graceful.”

“Don’t look smug, Annie,” Felix warns, “it took five of your guards to restrain me.”

“So it says. The healers are working late tonight thanks to you.”

He smiles, “always a pleasure.”

I try to ignore the fact that this implies Felix to be incredibly strong, whether in magical prowess or physical strength is entirely irrelevant.

“Why send me to Anisa?” I ask.

“Magic works in mysterious ways,” Felix shrugs, “I focused on someone safe and here we are.”

Anisa’s eyes widen, “Someone safe?”

Felix averts his gaze, cheeks dark with his blush. I catch Anisa’s demeanor softening slightly.

Anisa sighs, “It’s been five years, Felix. You haven’t outgrown these mindless shenanigans?”

I frown. I feel like that’s a tad harsh.

“I—” Felix stammers, “I—I—It was a mistake. An uncharacteristic error—”

“It’s highly characteristic,” Anisa drawls, rolling her eyes. My frown deepens, “How do you plan on fixing it?”

“Months,” he nods this way, “maybe years to replicate tonight’s ritual—”

“how about something a little less vague—and long?” I suggest. He gives me a pointed look, but there’s little to no malice behind it. 

“In that case:” he pauses for dramatic effect, “ _ Sage _ .”

Anisa scowls, “Sage? No.”

“Sage?” I ask.

Felix’s gaze meets mine, “a former Starsworn knight,” his eyes return to Anisa, “Together we ought to be able to handle one interrealm traveller, no?” Felix smirks, “I even know where he is: The Saucy Gull.”

Anisa scowls, “The Saucy—” she shakes her head, “No, Felix. We’re not taking Anne anywhere near that putrid place.”

I frown. I’ve played Last Legacy over 50 times, and I’ve never heard of that place. “What’s the Saucy Gull?”

Anisa and Felix turn to me, both wearing wildly different expressions: Anisa looks at me with the utmost pity, and Felix smirks, as if I’ve walked right into a trap. My heart sinks.

I feel like I have walked into a trap.


	3. Chapter 3

**Anne**

As it turned out, the Saucy Gull was a dive bar. An absolutely filthy one, to be exact. I would’ve been surprised, but I suppose that every friend group has the person who spends all their time out in the town.

Most of the patrons wear cloaks, and huddle over the tables, drinking from tankards filled to the brim. Many wear eyepatches, but even more are wearing bandages or deep scars.

“So,” I hum, instinctively moving to stand behind Felix, “what does Sage even look like?”

Felix clicks his tongue, arms crossed, “A scoundrel. Big, scruffy, as likely to kill you as he is kiss you.”

“So, kinda like a hit n’ run kinda guy?”

“Just about—” Felix scoffs at the kitchen area, a hand on his hip now, “—do I spy rat racing? By the kitchen!?” I glance over, and sure enough, there are rats racing on the counter.

“Yup,” I deadpan, and out gazes meet, “they have a reputation to uphold, Felix.”

He snorts, and I straighten with pride, happy that I managed to elicit such a reaction. However, the moment is broken when a hush falls over the room and several eyes lock on Anisa. The crowd doesn’t seem happy to see her here, and I wonder why Felix and I didn’t just go without her.

Anisa clears her throat, but when she speaks her voice is much more croaky.

“H-Hello,” she stutters, “I hear there’s strong spirits to be had.” She forces a wobbly smile, “And, yes, of course, illicit rat racing. My favorite sport.”

A beat of silence. Another. Then a rat’s shrill shriek breaks it, followed by the telltale noise of weapons being drawn. The entire tavern has apparently deemed us a threat. Wonderful.

A man points at Anisa, the lack of fingers slightly alarming: “Izzat a knight!? We’re busted!”

Yep. Definitely should’ve let Anisa wait for us at the barracks.

Chaos erupts.

A fight breaks out, and a woman with a mace attacks Anisa, but she simply side-steps her, then kicks her into a bench, sending both spinning.

Nearby, three thugs approach Felix, who simply opens a portal to an ocean—which they fall through. Smugly, he looks inside and with a wave—“Bon voyage! Enjoy your abyssal trench!”

I notice a guy coming for me and yelp, but Anisa fends him off before he reaches me.

“Go!” she orders, “hide!!”

I nod, running between patrons left and right—

Until I bump into someone’s chest. I look up at a looming man with a bat. He grins at me.

I reach into my cloak, fingers wrapping around the pocket knife I keep on me—just in case.

“S-stay back!” I shout, hoping I sound braver than I feel.

He laughs at me, raising his bat far above his head—

And I duck my head, hands overhead in an attempt to—shield my face? Something or other—but the impact never comes. Instead, I hear him grunt in pain.

When I dare to glance up, a man with a long, white braid is in standing front of me, foot poised up. He most likely kicked him, if I had to guess. The man lowers his foot.

“come on,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at me, “follow me if you want to live.”

I grumble, brows furrowed, unimpressed by his dramatic line, as I follow him out of the main room, into a dimly lit hallway.

As the door closes, he turns to me, and eyes my knife.

“My, what a cute toy you’ve got,” he chuckles, “did you plan on poking him to death?”

I huff, pouting, “it’s not meant to kill. It’s for self-defense.”

He snorts, “won’t do you much good in ‘ere.” He grins, baring sharp fangs, “but, if you need protection, I can provide that for yah.” He jabs a thumb at himself.

I look him up and down.

“Um…is there a reason you” I look him up and down again, “—a sellsword? I’m guessing?—is barely wearing any clothes.” It’s true, he’s got no fucking shirt!

He pouts, “it’s my brand.” He grins, “half the job’s is branding.”

I scoff, “okay, but you look like you’re about to fuck me for coin, not protect me.”

He winks, “I can do that too, if you’d like.”

I groan, averting my gaze, “no thanks, I’d like to keep the last of my innocence, yeah?”

He snorts, and I feel a rush of pride at being able to be considered funny, despite my circumstances.

His ears twitch as the volume in the other room rises.

“It’s about to get ugly,” he says, “you should hide.”

I look up and down the hallway.

“In an empty hallway?”

When I meet his gaze, it’s full of mischief.

“I’ve got an idea,” he hums, “but please don’t get mad.”

And just like that he’s crowded me into the wall in 3 big strides. He places his arm on the wall beside me and murmurs:

“…please. Don’t take this the wrong way.”

I wonder silently what the wrong way is, with our previous jokes.

“So your plan is to pretend we’re…” I quirk a brow at him, “…involved with each other?”

He smirks, “not a fan?”

I cross my arms, resting my foot on the wall, “may be a bit less weird if I knew your name.”

He chuckles, “It’s Sage.”

I blink, bewildered. This is _Sage_? I try not to let my surprise show.

“Anne,” I nod. Then I bite my lip.

He tilts his head to the side, “you scared?”

I pout, furrowing my brows. “Do I look it?”

He chuckles, “You can’t hide things from me,” his ears twitch, “Fear’s a good thing. It’ll keep you alive.”

I click my tongue, “Luck’s been enough for me so far, but thanks,” I avert my gaze. For a second, we don’t look at each other. He moves a step away from me. My eyes return to his face, focused on the door.

Then the door opens, and he quickly moves to block me from sight of the thugs who walk through, his back facing me.

“Sage, you old dog!” a bandit whistles, “Thought that was you prowlin’.”

“Why the hell’d you kick me in the stomach!” a Crook shouts.

Sage’s ears flatten before perking up again, and I shrink into the wall while he squares up to the thugs.

“You know, you’ve just got one of those kickable stomachs.” He nods away, “Now scram, can’t you see I’m busy here?”

My face flushes, but I avoid speaking by pulling my hair and biting my lip.

“Guards are comin’,” the bandit says, “We thought we might take a trip to their armory, nick a thing or two.” He nods, “we could always use muscle.,” a grin, “‘less you’re too busy necking.”

Sage levels them with a passive look, “sounds like unpaid work. You know I don’t crawl out of bed for less than 10 silver.”

The Crook snorts, “Yeah, but I hear you’ll warm any bed for half a’ that!”

The two thugs laugh, and it sounds a lot like the kind of laugh gross men at my job back home would have. Gross, enough to make your skin crawl and wish you were anywhere but there. I grit my teeth as I swallow down my annoyance.

However, Sage’s growl is even more intimidating than their gross laughter.

_“I could kick your asses for free. How is that for a deal?”_

Sage growls—which I feel more than hear—and his smile is more feral than it is friendly.

It works though, and the thugs flinch away—much like my instincts tell me to.

The Crook scoffs, “maybe we’ll tell your old pack where you been hidin’ instead.”

“Yeah!” the Thug says as they back away, “watch your back, fleabag!”

He looks after them, smiling so satisfied I wonder if he _enjoys_ this. He turns his predatory gaze to me, and I flinch away from the full force of it’s red intensity. It’s red and glaring and shakes me to my core. He seems to notice what he looks like, and his eyes widen before fading back to liquid gold.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, screwing his eyes shut.

I swallow thickly, then, braver than I feel, and voice a little shaky, “what for? Saving me?” I shake my head, pushing off the wall and past him, “don’t apologize for being kind.”

He blinks, eyes wide in shock as I pass him by. Then I think he smirks, as he is as he catches up to me. He undoubtedly sees my shaking hands.

“You’re weird.”

For a second, he sounds like a girl from my high school—‘you’re weird’ I’d heard her say all too often. I smile.

“So they say.”

Suddenly I remember why I’m here.

“Anisa and Felix are looking for you,” I say, turning my gaze to Sage. I watch as his ears flatten, and he averts his gaze.

“Felix and Anisa came here? To see me?” he clicks his tongue, “idiots. May as well have doused themselves in blood and sat on a cockatrice’s nest.”

Though I know what a cockatrice is from the last game, the comparison is a bit odd.

“Are you all on good terms?” I ask. Anisa seemed like she’d rather never speak to him again, but Felix seemed more than ready for a reunion tour.

Sage sighs, hands on his hips. “It’s complicated. Let’s go.”

Sage takes off towards the main hall, and I jog to keep up. Sage is a tall, muscular man, with cat ears and a tail, which on many others would make them appear less intimidating, but he makes them work _for_ him.

I’m so lost in thought, I don’t realize he’d stopped, and end up bumping into his back.

“Something bothering you?” he asks, surprisingly solemn.

“Sorry,” I wince, “this is a lot to take in. Magic, a whole new world, you.”

I immediately regret my phrasing when a smirk decorates his lips, a blush darkening his cheeks, “me?”

I huff, “where I come from, people don’t have tails.”

“I thought you were quiet cus’ you were frightened,” he grins slyly, “but now I see you were simply ogling me.”

I scoff, crossing my arms, though my face burns, “What? I’m not _ogling_ anyone!”

“Might’ve worn my leather pants if I’d know someone’d be admiring my tail.”

I glower, growling, “That is _not_. What I meant.”

Sage chuckles, and I cross my arms, cocking my hip. “You’re a dick, Sage.”

He grins, “Weird, you’re not the first one to tell me that.”

When we return to the main room, the feud has dissolved, leaving Anisa and Felix at the bar, along with a few patrons here and there. Felix sips wine from a glass and makes a sour face. He jabs a finger at the bar tender, who couldn’t care less.

“You call this a Porriman red?” he scowls, “more like Denebian swamp water. Notes of lichen.”

Sage and I walk up, and Sage clears his throat. Immediately, the two Starsworn look up. The second Anisa’s eyes land on Sage, a chill bites through the air. Still, she attempts a smile.

“Sage,” she muses, “you’ve found Anne. Perfect.”

His ears pin back at the look she regards him with, “more like she found me.”

“Those are new scars,” Anisa assesses, “who’d you piss off this time?”

Sage opens his mouth, but Felix is faster, giving me a lazy salute as he beckons me over:

“We meet again, barista,” he smiles, his voice making me relax, “take a seat. Have a drink.” He smirks, “the wine is dreadful. Order a glass. It’s on me.”

I snort, rolling my eyes as I take a step forward. Before I can get any closer, Sage grins and speaks: “If it isn’t my favorite wee manchild!”

He strides past Anisa, pulling Felix in a hug as he tousles his hair, similarly to how an old friend or older sibling would. Felix yelps, squirming off the stool, desperate to escape Sage. I get the feeling that Felix is the youngest.

“You’re certainly looking hale,” Sage huffs, “haven’t grown an inch though.”

Felix fixes Sage with a glare as he smooths his hair, though it doesn’t do much due to it’s perpetually messy state. I imagine his glare would be scary if not for the blush on his ears and cheeks.

“You look like you’ve been rode hard and put up wet,” Felix huffs. Sage cants his head to the side, ears twitching in clear confusion. He has no idea what Felix just said.

“That was an insult,” I explain, patting his arm before moving to sit at the bar.

“Figures,” Sage says, “I’m told you two were looking for me. Why?”

Felix nudges his glass towards me. I quirk a brow, sliding it back. He shrugs.

Anisa sighs with a note of longing, “Just look at us. The last Starsworn, gathered once again,” she closes her eyes, “I want to start off with the obvious: Felix, you’re a prodigy, truly…”

I smile, as Felix smirks proudly: “Annie, you flatter me.”

Anisa scowls, “but this is so catastrophically sloppy—it’s a new low.”

I frown as Felix deflates. I know he messed up but god, that’s a little harsh of her. even in game magic was regarded as a hard skill to master, surely this is a mistake that could’ve gone way worse, no?

“You—You’ve scolded me enough, haven’t you?” Felix stammers.

“What did he do this time?” Sage asks.

“Pulled me from a different dimension,” I shrug, “or realm? I don’t really know yet.”

Sage blinks at me, eyes wide.

“Wait—what? You mean—”

“I’d prefer us to discuss this in private,” Anisa huffs, “Let’s get out of here. the stench is killing me.”

Felix whines, “but I haven’t finished my wine!” but Sage and Anisa are already leaving. Felix groans, promptly downing his wine in one gulp. We hop off the stools and follow the other two out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Felix**

The atmosphere in Anisa’s office is nothing short of icy—the tension between Sage and Anisa is palpable even with no one speaking, and I know all too well what Anisa thinks of my…ah, misstep. Anne is sitting by the fire but by the look on her face, I gather she feels just as chilled as I do.

Sage is the first to speak up: “So, as usual, it’s Felix’s fault.”

My face heats, and I huff, “Er—I—”

“You’re one to talk,” Anisa scoffs, placing her hands on her hips, “you looked like you were enjoying that brawl.”

Sage’s crooked smirk speaks for itself, though his tail lashes to and fro. “What can I say?” he shrugs, “Never could resist a good fight.”

“Except for when the fight matters,” Anisa retorts.

I sigh, leaning against Anisa’s desk as I rest my chin on my knuckles, “cut him some slack. It’s been five years, Annie.”

It’s true—in the beginning, I too blamed Sage for leaving, but in the last five years…I’ve lost the ability to blame him, or hold it against him.

Anisa sighs, averting her gaze from both Sage and me.

Anne speaks up, hesitantly: “Five years since…?”

My eyes meet hers as I explain, “Since Sage turned tail and fled from the battlefield. When the Starsworn lost everything.” I shrug, “Poor timing, I’d say.”

Sage’s eyes narrow, a snarl tugging at the edge of his lips, his ears pinned back, “what difference does one person make in a war? More like I’d be dead, just like R—”

I push off the table with a hiss, my blood boiling: “Don’t you dare say his name!”

For a moment, my words hang in the air. The space between us feels heavy and laden with things unsaid…we are so much different from the people we were 5 years ago, I realize.

Sage lowers his head, “blame me or blame your gods. It won’t change the past.” He glances up, “so why am I here?”

I nod, smoothing down my vest. “This is why,” I state as my eyes meet Anne’s. Her eyes widen as I walk across the room to where she rests in an armchair by the fire. I cast an all too familiar spell as I go, gold emanating from my hand. Sure enough, a responding glow comes from Anne’s chest.

Her eyes widen as her gaze flies to her own body, hands hovering over the light. Slightly panicked, she asks: “What’s happening?”

Sage and Anisa watch, eyes widening with surprise. Finally, the glow ebbs away. Anne blinks, first at herself, then me before her gaze flickers between the three of us.

“A Relic has taken up residence within you,” I explain. “Like it or not—you are one of us now.”

“What…?” Anne looks dazed when her eyes find me.

“a Relic is a legendary magical weapon,” Anisa explains, though I get the sense Anne already knows that, “ordinarily, Relics seek out wielders skilled in both might and magic. But for one to cross the void in such a manner…how?”

“who can say,” I shrug, smirking, “the gods are fickle.”

“Did you recognize her Relic, Felix?”

I flinch at her question. A small part of me considers telling the truth—but a greater part of me knows not to.

“N-No,” I say, averting my gaze, “I’m afraid not.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Anne looking at me with an unimpressed look. Thankfully, she seems to humor me. As does Anisa, for which I am grateful.

“In any case,” she hums, “this solidifies the fact that Anne needs a guardian. Someone to teach her about the world of Astraea, and protect her.”

“You two can do as you wish,” Sage scoffs, starting to leave, “count me out.”

Anisa moves to stand in his way, “Running away already?” her expression becomes hard, “Anne must choose. She deserves a choice for once.”

“Thanks,” Anne nods, “but if he doesn’t want to, there’s no point in forcing him, is there?”

Sage pauses, his gaze flickering to Anne. Anisa huffs.

“I…suppose.”

Sage smirks, “izzat so?”

“Yeah,” she grins, crossing her legs, “and besides—I seem to recall Felix promising to teach me magic.”

This time it’s my turn to be taken aback. My eyes widen, but I quickly school my expression into a smirk.

“I seem to recall that as well,” I nod.

Anisa sighs, seeming somewhat disappointed. “Well, then I suppose that settles it.” Anisa offers Anne a smile, “regardless, if you’d like, I can still teach you how to handle a weapon. Just in case.”

My first instinct is to argue that I can handle a weapon—but I decide that Anisa would be a much better teacher in that regard.

“If we’re gonna spar,” Sage grins, “count me in.”

I roll my eyes, “Now you’re suddenly all aboard?”

Sage grins wider, “Duh. I’m always up for a good fight.”

Anne laughs, “O-kay. We get it—you’re a masochist.”

Immediately, Sage flushes—and Anisa and I cannot contain our laughter.

“H-Hey!” Sage scowls.

Anne waves her hand, “I’m sorry, but you were asking for it.”

Sage rolls his eyes, and Anisa clears her throat. “In any case,” she sighs, swallowing her smile, “we need to discuss how to proceed. Anne needs new clothes, and we need to decide on a schedule if she does want to learn how to handle a weapon.”

I nod. “Agreed. We can head into town tomorrow, and discuss a possible schedule over lunch, no?”

“Sounds fine,” Anisa nods. “Then we should be getting to bed.” She turns to Anne, “I will go fetch some blankets, you can stay here.”

I purse my lips, “what about us?”

Anisa smiles coldly, “well, the Gull is still open.”

I pull a disgusted face, but Sage grins, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “C’mon, Felix! The gull ain’t so bad!”

“I’m seen you sleep face-first in a gutter,” I scowl, “I do not trust your standards.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Anne says with a smile to her voice.

I give her a smirk, which she returns with a grin. Anisa sighs.

“Alright then! Out you go—I’ll be right back.”

**Anne**

Sage and Felix banter with each other as Anisa leads them outside. Felix is halfway through the door when he stops, turning to address me.

“I am…regretful of stranding you here.” He inhales deeply, avoiding my gaze “I promise…I will make it up to you. I will fix this.” We lock eyes, finally, and he regards me with such sincerity its hard to find words.

Finally, I smile, “it’s okay. No harm done, promise.”

He blinks, seeming bewildered, then smirks. “We’ll see about that. Goodnight, Anne.”

“Night, Felix.”

He lingers, a million emotions flashing through his eyes…

He shakes his head slightly, then leaves. It seemed like he wanted to say more, but didn’t for some reason. I don’t want to pressure him to reveal anything he doesn’t want to, but…the curiosity may very well kill me.

Despite how easy it is to read Felix, he keeps many a secret—that much is obvious. He may wear his heart on his sleeve, but if I don’t ask…he may very well keep certain things from me forever.

Unfortunately, I don’t have much time to mull this over, as Anisa reenters the room, carrying a blanket and a change of clothes.

“these are spare clothes of mine,” she explains, handing me the folded fabrics, “I hope they will be sufficient until tomorrow.”

I smile, “it’ll be fine, I’m sure.” Though Anisa is taller than me, our body types are pretty much the same, so I’m pretty sure it’ll be okay.

She nods, humming. I deposit the clothes and the blanket on the couch. Behind me, she hums.

“Are you certain you wish to have Felix as your guide?”

Anisa’s question catches me off guard. I blink blankly at my hands, then glance over my shoulder at her, an eyebrow raised.

“Pardon?”

“Well—” she sighs, “Felix is…a handful. It could be difficult if you choose to follow him.”

I frown, turning fully to face her as I cross my arms. “How do you mean? He seemed pretty capable earlier.”

She sighs. “He is capable—he is the youngest Starsworn Inductee in history, yes. He is talented in multiple languages, sure. But…still. He can get overconfident and jump to conclusions. And besides…he’d be teaching you _necromancy_.”

I cross my arms in a slight challenge, “What’s so bad about necromancy?”

At this point, I’m mainly trying to figure out if Anisa is _really_ Felix’s friend—the way she talks, I find that hard to believe. At my response, she scoffs.

“Well…I wouldn’t say bringing people back from the dead is ethical.”

“Well, I would say that there’s more to it than that.” I shrug, “Then again. I don’t know about necromancy yet, so maybe you should discuss the ethics of it with Felix instead of me. You are friends with him, aren’t you?”

I instantly regret my passive aggressive tone, but the words are already out, and I can’t really take them back.

Anisa presses her lips together. “…yes. I am. You are correct.” She inhales deeply, “Well then. I suppose I will let you get some rest.” Her eyes meet mine, “Goodnight, Anne.”

I nod, “…you too.”

Anisa nods, then turns on her heel and heads out the door. It closes with a click behind her. As soon as her footsteps disappear behind the door, I let my shoulders slump. I let out a sigh, walking to the couch, my legs heavy with exhaustion. I collapse onto the couch, burying my face in my hands.

…

…I’m _actually_ in Astarea. 

I drop my hands. The reality sets in like a heavy blanket, and my chest aches. I can’t help but wonder what Yoosung is up to now…undoubtedly, he’s worrying. He probably went straight to the messenger and told the others—not that they can do much. I wonder if they can figure anything out, actually? If the cosplayer who ran into me knew what they were doing? Was this planned?

I sigh, standing up again. There’s no use dwelling on this now, there’s nothing I can do from here. The least I can do is learn magic so I can go back home. But for today…sleeping will suffice.

Xxx

Though Felix said we should meet for lunch last night, Sage somehow manages to get him to breakfast at the barracks with us instead. He looks slightly grumpy and tired when they join our table, but Sage’s cheerfulness far overshadows it.

“Goodmorning, ladies!” he beams.

I laugh as Felix slides into the seat next to me, “Wow, Sage! I would never have pegged you as the early riser.”

“Oh, he’s surprisingly chipper in the mornings,” Felix says, “annoyingly so.”

“What?” I grin, “not a morning person?”

“Absolutely not.”

I snort, “duly noted.” I turn to Anisa and Sage, “So, what’s the plan?”

“Well,” Anisa says, folding her hands on the table, “today I think should be dedicated to getting a few clothes for you. You can’t walk around in the base of the uniform after all.”

Sage nods, “Yeah, you stick out way too much. After we figure out the clothing, we can talk about a training schedule.” He grins, “though, if I know Felix, he’ll vouch for his sessions being in the afternoon.”

Felix purses his lips, “…perhaps.”

I shrug, “I don’t mind. Though I might need a lot of breaks if we’re reading a lot.”

Felix nods tiredly, “That can be arranged. I too tend to take some time to read sometimes.”

“Right then,” Anisa claps her hands, “after breakfast we shall head into Mournfall. Deal?”

“Deal,” I nod, smiling as I wrap my hands around my mug. I take a sip from my coffee as Felix addresses me.

“You said you were a performer,” he hums, silver eyes glued to me like he’s looking for something. “In what way?”

I hum, placing the mug on the table, “Well, I make…music. I used to act, but these days I mainly make music and play games.”

“You’re a musician?” Anisa asks. I nod.

“Yeah, mainly singing things others wrote, though. But…what about you guys? I barely know anything about you.”

Anisa smiles, “I’m a knight lieutenant, for one. I’ve always wanted to be a knight, so I take my duty very seriously.”

Sage clicks his tongue, “Too seriously if you ask me.” He grins, “it’s not a crime to take a break you know.”

Anisa rolls her eyes. “Sage, you wouldn’t know the first thing about duty.”

He grins, ears twitching as his tail lashes this way and that. I get the feeling they are polar opposites….and again I wonder how in the world these 3 were ever friends.

“okay,” I nod, “then Sage. What about you—if I _needed_ to choose a guide, why you?” I grin, “Sell yourself, big man.”

Sage blinks, eyes widening in surprise, then smirks.

“Well, if you want to be bold, you go with Felix. He’s as like to immolate you as he is to instruct you—”

“That happened once!” Felix interrupts.

…but it happened.

Sage shrugs. “And Anisa—”

Anisa meets Sage’s gaze with a cold smile, and Sage clearly wants to live another day, as he forgoes saying anything about her. He grins at me.

“Look, when it comes to kicking ass—as a mercenary--I’ve got them both beat. As well as when it comes to...having fun.”

I snort, “I can’t tell if you’re implying these two can’t chill, or if you’re saying you fuck better.”

“Both.”

Anisa groans, but Felix simply rolls his eyes, taking a long swig of his tea. He looks like he’s trying to ignore Sage ever said anything…

“Anyway,” I drawl, clearing my throat, “what about you Felix? What do you do?”

Felix blinks at me over the rim of his cup, then lowers it, straightening his back.

“I am not often one to brag,” he says, and I immediately think that that’s a lie, “but I am without a doubt the most skilled spellslinger here. As the youngest inductee in Starsworn history, a polyglot, voidwalker, a master necromancer, adept…”

I hear Sage mutter, “more like inept,” and shoot him a poisonous glare. Even so, Felix goes on, oblivious:

“…once bound an infernal godling into a housecat. I am simply unmatched when it comes to magical prowess.”

I have half a mind to tease him about stranding me here but decide that these two harp enough on him already—and he already feels guilty enough. No need to worsen it.

“Perfect,” I grin, “then you can teach me all about magic, right?”

He blinks, then smirks. “Naturally.”

I laugh. Anisa shakes her head.

“Well then, if we are all done with breakfast,” she says as she stands, “we better get going.”

I nod, “sounds good.”

And with that, we’re off.


	5. Chapter 5

**Felix**

Our shopping spree is mostly uneventful—Anisa and Anne spend the majority talking about differences between Astarea and Earth, though there is an air of tense politeness between them, almost as if Anisa is holding back.

I’m not the only one who notices, as Sage seems to insert himself into their conversations whenever the air gets a little too heated—mainly when comparing knights to “Police”. Anne seems to have a lot of thoughts regarding morality and legality…

“Just because something is legal,” Anne huffs, “doesn’t mean it’s right. Just because it’s illegal, doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

Anisa rolls her eyes, but I couldn’t agree more. 

Over Lunch, we do come up with a schedule—though as predicted, it results in Anne training with Anisa and Sage in the mornings, and spending the afternoon studying with me. Then of course a lunch break in between, as is only natural.

Instead of starting to teach Anne about magic that afternoon, Sage thought a tour of Mournfall were in order—so she and Sage went exploring instead. I can only imagine what the two had been up to, but I took the time to browse the library for some simple books on magic.

From what I could already tell, Anne has immense magical potential. Especially for someone from earth…combined with how familiar she felt, I can’t help but wonder if there’s something we’re missing…

I don’t have the luxury to dwell on this much longer, as Anne opens the door to the study and steps inside.

**Anne**

I find myself following Sage as he leads through unknown corridors and winding alleyways that afternoon. When he suggested to show me around, I expected to receive a normal tour, but this is Sage, so maybe I was expecting a bit much.

Instead of showing me bars and restaurants, Sage shows me shortcuts and hidden gems in the town, as well as Mournfall Fortress. We spend the afternoon weaving in between alleys and exploring hidden passageways around the fortress—much to my surprise, there’s one tucked away behind the bookshelf in Anisa’s study, too. It leads to a tower that has long since been abandoned, and I wonder how Sage even found this.

“How the hell would you even find a place like this?” I ask, venturing towards the floor length glass-less window. Sage shrugs.

“I have my ways.”

I huff, though I can’t hide my smile, “do I even wanna know?”

“Probably not.”

I laugh lightly. The view from here is stunning, but my stomach flips as I approach the window. The wind up here is cool, and feels fresh against my skin.

“It’s beautiful up here,” I sigh. Sage hums.

“You should see it at night. Man…”

“I guess I’ll have to come back later, then,” I shrug.

Sage grins, “if you ever want company, you know how to find me.”

I quirk a brow, “at the gull, halfway through a bottle of whiskey?”

He grins even wider. “Yup.”

I shake my head, “do you do anything other than sleep and drink?”

He shrugs, “I used to prank Felix, too.”

I tilt my head, “used to?”

Sage’s expression grows somber, and he averts his gaze. “it was…a long time ago. Things are different now.”

I pause. I nod slowly. “Yeah. You’re older than you were back then. You have more experience, and…if I had to wager a guess, a lot more traumatized too.”

When I glance back at him, he’s standing a little stiffer, a little straighter. Clearly, I touched a nerve.

“You don’t need to talk about it,” I sigh, “I was just…thinking aloud.”

“You’re real observant,” he says. I laugh.

“You lot don’t make it hard.”

He smirks, “Yeah. Guess not.” He shakes his head. “I’m headin’ back to the gull. I have a date with a lovely man.~”

I roll my eyes, “okay, I get it. I’m not entertaining enough for you,” I grin, sarcasm dripping from my lips. Sage laughs.

“don’t let Anisa know I bounced for a bit of early afternoon delight—she’d kill me.”

I wince, “I don’t know. I don’t think she likes me much.”

Sage shrugs as we make our way back outside, “nah. She’s just…” he pauses, pursing his lips. “…you know.”

“Stubborn?” I offer, then shake my head, “all three of you seem like that.”

He pouts, “I’m not that stubborn.”

I laugh, loud and unrestrained. “That’s rich.”

Sage rolls his eyes, attempting to argue his case as we make our way towards the exit of the fortress.

After saying goodbye to Sage, I head straight for Anisa’s study. As I walk, I can’t help how my thoughts drift to wondering about how Anisa, Sage and Felix were before the war. I don’t know them well yet, and I often question Anisa’s relationship with them, but I can tell they were close.

It’s tragic how time tore them apart. Maybe…maybe time could bring them together, though, too?

As the thought passes through my mind, I open the door to the study—

And find Felix sitting at the table, looking at me.

There’s an open book in front of him, and the way he’s leaning slightly on his knuckles implies he’d been reading. Though surprise is evident on his face, he quickly masks it with disinterest—and I wonder what led to him defaulting to doing that.

I crack a smile, “Oh…I didn’t know you were here.”

Felix inhales, straightening his back, “Yes, well…I thought I ought to skim some books to find a good starting point for you.”

I tilt my head to the side, quirking a brow, “did you find anything?”

His expression brightens a bit as I make my way over. I sit down in the chair beside him, peering over to read the open book, but careful to give him space.

“Well,” he clears his throat, “this book here is about the history of magic, how we started to practice it, and somesuch things. Of course, it leaves out much, but it is a good starting point.”

I smile, “great! Then let’s start!”

Felix blinks. “R-Right now?”

I nod, “course! Why not? No time like the present, right?”

He pauses. He presses his lips together, then smirks. “Right you are. Then, let’s get into it.”

As it turns out, Felix had a lot to say about this particular history book. Before long we got so wrapped up in talking about how magic became a mainstream part of Astraea’s culture, and how it’s become used in daily life, that we didn’t notice the sun setting until my grumbling stomach interrupts Felix.

I blush as he turns to look at me, and I’m about to excuse myself when he beats me to the punch—

“Oh! I hadn’t noticed how late it’d gotten,” his gaze drifts to the window, where moonlight streams through the glass. “Well, we should wrap it up for today, then.”

I nod, humming. “Okay.” I consider inviting him to get dinner together, but shake my head, ultimately deciding against it. I don’t want to intrude more than I did already. “See you tomorrow.”

Felix nods, gathering the books into one pile. “Rest well, barista.”

I smile, “you too, necromancer.”

He blinks, then scoffs, a smirk still on his lips.

Xxx

My first combat lesson is the following morning. During breakfast, however, is when Anisa first approaches me.

“Good morning Anne,” she says, a polite smile on her face, “did you sleep well?”

Anisa slides into the chair opposite me, and I glance up. “Oh, um. Yeah, I did.” I swallow, “did you need something?”

Anisa blinks, then chuckles, “Can we not simply chat?”

“We could,” I shrug, “but I feel the need to ask anyway.”

“Well,” she inhales deeply, “I was meaning to ask you something.”

I hum, taking a sip of my coffee. Anisa takes a deep breath.

“Are you certain about aligning yourself with Felix?”

The question gives me pause. I lower my glass I look at her, “why?”

“Well, it’s just—” she sighs, seeming annoyed, “Felix is…temperamental, at best. His magic is no different. He’s always been a little…bleak, and now he’s practicing Necromancy and that never ends well! I cannot help but think that this may be dangerous, and he’s trapped you here the least he can do is keep you safe!”

I hum. Anisa clearly is very worried, and she clearly cares for her friends a lot—but it still isn’t her place to decide for them.

“I trust Felix,” I say. “I hear what you’re saying, but I think Felix already feels guilty enough. He wouldn’t purposely put me in danger—my being here is all a mistake anyway. He didn’t mean to.”

“But does that matter,” she scoffs, “when the results are the same?”

“I think it does,” I say, shifting to lean my chin on my knuckles, “not always, but in this case. I think so.”

Anisa frowns. Finally, she sighs, “Fine. I just thought I’d bring it up.” She stands up, “when you are ready, meet me in the courtyard, and we can begin.”

Anisa regards me briefly, then sighs, walking away. I watch her go, letting out a shaky sigh as she exits the cafeteria.

…well, my coffee is gone and I’m not hungry anymore. So…no better time than the present, yeah?

Xxx

The first lesson on combat focuses on basics—learning stances and attacks and defenses and getting an idea for how to use a weapon. Anisa started with introducing me to a few weapons and showcasing what I could learn to do with them in duels against Sage. Afterwards, I chose my weapon—a quarterstaff—and we got into actually learning how to use it.

Sage was uncharacteristically quiet, aside from a few quips here and there, but Anisa remained as civil and professional as I expected, which is to say, extremely.

After a few hours, Anisa lets out a heavy sigh. “I believe that is enough for today,” she smiles, “wouldn’t want to wear you out _too_ much.”

I scoff, feeling gross as the sweat on my skin makes everything stick. Anisa gives an amused chuckle, “I need to get going. I trust you recall where the baths are?”

I nod, flopping onto the low wall separating the courtyard from the open hallway. Anisa nods as well, before heading off.

“So,” Sage’s voice says as he strolls towards me. I turn to him as he speaks, “if I remember correctly, you’ve got a few hours to kill, don’t cha?”

I blink, my eyes growing wide.

I could almost taste where this is going…

Xxxx

**Felix**

By the time Anne enters the study, I am already sat there, reading a book on protection magic. She enters with a bright expression, her hair a mess, likely from Anisa’s training.

“Oh, you’re here already,” she gasps, quickly striding into the room. “Were you waiting long?”

I shake my head. “Not at all.”

She smiles, sliding into her seat, “sorry for being late, I was in the…instrument room.”

“the bardary?” I question, “what were you doing there?”

“Sage was showing me around, and when we got there I asked if I could try ‘em out, and he said sure,” she shrugs, “I just lost track of time is all.”

“Oh,” I hum. She did mention she was a musician…

“Do you play instruments, Felix?”

I sigh, “my father did have tutors teach me how to play a variety of instruments, yes. I do not play though.”

“Shame,” she shrugs, “we could’ve played something together sometime.”

I press my lips together. Many things were ruined for me by my…upbringing, but I never necessarily _missed_ it. The only positive memory I had making music was a long time ago, when a family friend had been teaching me and their daughter.

I shake my head, brushing the thought away.

“Felix?” Anne says, catching my attention. “You okay?”

I huff. It’s quite…annoying, how perceptive she is. “I am fine. I believe we were going to talk about spellcrafting, yes?”

She blinks, regarding me carefully, then quirks a smile. “Sure. But you totally didn’t hear what I asked.”

I flush. “I—ah. Didn’t seem to have…heard you. Apologies.”

She shakes her head. “No worries. I asked why it was called the bardary?”

“Oh,” I blink. “it’s because that is where we perform bardic magic. Using music to cast spells, typically protection ones. It’s quite a recently discovered type of magic, so little is known about it.”

“Really?” she leans forward, “how so?”

“Well,” I clear my throat, “it was discovered around two decades ago. The family who discovered it claimed it would work best in combination with healing and defensive magic, but that it was quite versatile. However, before they could make their findings public, they vanished. No one can seem to recall their name, but my Papa was close with the family, so he was able to relay some of the knowledge to me.”

“bardic magic must be powerful,” she muses, “I doubt they vanished for no reason.”

“No,” I sigh, “and their house was also found in ruins, so it is safe to assume their lives were at risk due to their knowledge.”

She smirks, quirking a brow. She’s very expressive, I notice. “But you’re different?”

I smirk, “Naturally.”

She giggles, leaning away. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

I can’t help the way my cheeks heat, and I avert my gaze. “I…er—suggest we start with the basics, though.”

She hums, “alright. Tell me all about spellcrafting, then.”

I swallow, and give her a nod.

With that, we delve right into it. We spend the rest of the afternoon talking about other subgroups of magic, of how spells are written and briefly touching upon how emotions and magic are tied together. By the time dinner rolls around, Anne and I agree that she can try casting tomorrow.

“Are you heading back to the gull?” Anne asks as I gather my things. I look up, then huff playfully.

“Why? You tired of me already?”

Anne flushes, and I strain to refrain from smiling wider as she frantically speaks: “What? OH—no, no, no! I just—I just. Wanted to know. If you wanted to eat dinner with us.”

I blink, surprised. “You, Sage and Anisa?”

She nods as she fiddles with her corded bracelet, “Y-yeah. We wanted to have dinner together.” Her shoulders sag, “Despite what you seem to think, Sage and Anisa _did_ miss you.”

I blink, taken aback slightly. I didn’t…I wasn’t expecting _that_ , of all things.

“Oh,” I say, “I…hm. I can join you.”

“I’d like that,” she says, but moves on so quickly I can’t ask her about it, “I’m sure they’ll appreciate it too.”

She gives me a smile, and I feel my shoulders relax a little more. Her presence is…calming. It’s odd, I barely know her, but it feels as though I’ve known her my whole life.

…how peculiar.

We quickly tidy the table, then head towards the cafeteria together. We don’t talk much, but it is not awkward. It seldom is, with Anne.

We join Anisa and Sage shortly after, who are already gathered at a table. Anne is the first to spot them when we step into the cafeteria, and calls out:

“Anisa! Sage!” she waves, quickly approaching their table as they both turn to her. Anisa smiles, waving back, but Sage calls back:

“Anne! Felix! What took you so long!”

I am not in the slightest surprised at their evident friendship. I roll my eyes as I join Anne in joining the two of them.

“Anne,” Sage grins as Anne slides onto the bench next to Sage, “can you tell Anisa that flirting is a perfectly valid way of getting the upper-hand in a fight?”

Anisa groans as I sit down beside her, “For the last time—it’s not! It’s not even guaranteed to work!”

“Well, nothing’s _guaranteed_ to work,” Anne shrugs, “and it’s a bit unconventional, but why not?” she giggles, voice playful as she speaks, “you need to learn to lighten up a bit, Anisa.”

Anisa frowns, and Sage lets out a loud “HAH!”.

“People back home always take things so seriously,” Anne huffs, “sometimes you are allowed to just…have fun. Not everything needs to be like, a black or white question. Sometimes things are just fun—that’s all.”

Sage hums, his tail swishing to and fro. “She’s got a point,” he smirks, “and I think you two have had a lack of ‘fun’ in your lives,” he says, gesturing to Anisa and me. We both stiffen—of course Sage would point out the obvious.

Anisa had always been a workaholic and I—have spent the last 5 years working on a way to return Rime, but…they don’t know that. And I’d like to keep it that way.

“We should all hang out tonight,” Sage grins, “go out for drinks, get to know Anne better~”

…to be honest, I perk up at the prospect. I truly want to get to know Anne better, but…sometimes it’s hard to start that process. Sage is good at simplifying it, though.

Anisa frowns, “I don’t know…”

“Oh come now, Annie,” I say, smirking, “surely one night of drinking won’t ruin your reputation, no?”

I mostly jest, but Anisa huffs at me all the same.

“I’m down,” Anne says, “but I propose hanging out in the study instead.”

“Not a fan of bars?” I ask, smirking and a teasing lilt to my tone.

“No, actually,” Anne says, “they’re noisy. And crowded. My anxiety doesn’t mix well with that.”

That’s…quite unexpected.

“Aren’t you a musician?” I ask, “isn’t that a noisy, crowded profession as well?”

She smiles gently, “not with how technologically advanced Earth is compared to Astraea. I can record my music and publish it so anyone, anywhere can listen to it whenever they want.”

I blink. “Huh.”

“Wow!” Anisa beams, “that’s amazing!”

Anne nods, “yeah. We have access to a lot of stuff this way—information, entertainment, games, books—”

“entire books?” I question.

“Yeah,” she nods, “though usually only after you pay for it.”

“How do you pay for it?” Anisa asks.

And just like that, we fall face first into a discussion about Earth. Anne tells us about phones, computers, the internet—she talks about cars and capitalism and Youtube and her café. Sometimes Sage, Anisa or I will ask something, only for Anne to have to go into such a long backstory we’ve all forgotten the question.

We continue like this for a while, until the cafeteria grows quieter with how many people are leaving. Once the room starts to clear out, Sage jumps up.

“I’ve got a plan. You should teach us some Earth games while we drink!” he grins, “you can’t tell me everything you guys do is internetized.”

“Digitalized—” Anne corrects, but nods then, “there’s a few we can play, sure.”

Anisa smiles, “Excellent. Sage, you and I will go take care of drinks and some food. We will meet you in the study shortly.”

Anne nods, “sounds perfect.”

And so…half an hour later, Anne is introducing us to a choice selection of party games.


	6. Chapter 6

**Anne**

That night, Anisa, Felix, Sage and I gather with food and drink in the study, and I introduce them to a game: Never Have I Ever.

“There’s always a card game in my backpack from Earth,” I say, then wince, “but…I don’t think we’re drunk enough for that.”

Sage laughs, “In that case, I’ll never get ‘round to playin’.”

“You implying you’re incapable of getting drunk, cat boy?” I smirk.

He huffs, “I’m not a cat.”

I give him an incredulous look, but shake my head with a huff. “Whatever. The game we’re playing is called Never have I ever. You say ‘never have I ever’ then something you haven’t done. Everyone else who _has_ done it has to take a shot or drink a sip.”

“How do you win?” Felix asks. I shrug.

“There’s no real winner, it’s just a fun party game. But if you want, we could play beer pong, or truth or dare—but I’m not sure I want to have to do whatever Sage says.”

By the way he perks up and grins, I get the feeling I’m very right.

“agreed,” Anisa grumbles, then smiles, “never have I ever, then.”

“who starts?” Felix asks.

“I can start off,” I shrug. “Never have I ever _not_ had a sister.”

Sage and Felix both groan, bringing their glasses to their lips. Anisa puffs her chest out, grinning smugly.

“Anisa’s the odd one out then,” I smile. I turn to the boys, “you both have sisters?”

Sage nods, “aye. Though I haven’t seen her in years.”

“Nor have I mine,” Felix straightens with a shrug, “not that I care all that much.”

“Shame,” I say, “I loved my sister. A lot.”

If they notice the use of past tense, none of them point it out. However, I do catch Felix’s eye, and see the way he regards me with open curiosity. He might have caught on already.

“Aight,” Sage grins, “my turn! Never have I ever NOT been a virgin.”

I groan—much as Felix and Anisa do—but take a sip. Disgruntled, I huff: “Wish I wasn’t.”

“What?” Anisa asks, spluttering. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Felix stifling a laugh, and Sage gape at me. He clearly wasn’t expecting me to have “experience”.

For a second, I consider telling them the whole story…but I don’t.

“Bad ex,” I say with a shrug, “no biggie. I got tough skin, doesn’t mean I can’t be regretful though.”

“Ah, man, couldn’t be me,” Sage sighs, “I never regret anything.”

I narrow my eyes. “Oh?” I quirk a brow, “is that a challenge, big man?”

Sage’s eyes widen. He seems genuinely shocked for a second, but easily plays it off with a grin. “Only if you’re offering.”

“Ugh,” I groan, rolling my eyes despite my smile, “Okay, next question. Anisa?”

“Um, okay,” she hums, “never have I ever been interested only in my own culture.”

“Please, Annie,” Felix says, rolling his eyes, “isn’t the purpose of this game to get your friends drunk?”

“Or learn more about each other,” Anisa huffs, “for all you know, Anne could be only interested in her own culture!”

Felix and Sage both share an incredulous look that implies they know I am interested in ANY culture but my own, and I don’t know how I feel about them already knowing me that well.

“Okay, okay,” I laugh, “Felix, you’re the only one left who hasn’t gone yet.”

Felix straightens. “Alright then. Let’s see….” He stares towards the floor, pursing his lips in contemplation. “Ok…never have I ever…been beaten in a game of strip poker.”

I eyes widen, and I choke on my spit in my disbelief—“I—What!?”

Sage’s ears pin to his head, “That’s not fair!”

Felix laughs along with Anisa as he speaks, “it most certainly is! All is fair!”

“Excuse me—” I choke, drawing their gazes, “—I feel—I feel like you’re glossing over something here????”

All three of them share a look, varying degrees of amusement reflected in their smiles. Eventually, Felix speaks up:

“This was back when I was a fresh recruit for the Starsworn. I had been dragged to the bar by some other recruits, and I had no intention of playing strip poker.”

I laugh, “Yeah, that doesn’t sound very…in character.”

“Indeed,” he nods, “I had no intention of playing such a crude game. However, Sage approached me—shirtless, as well—and said something truly obscene to me.”

Sage huffs, “you need to be more specific.”

“Because he says a lot of obscene shit,” I snort. Sage shoots me a glare, and I simply grin back.

“Allow me to elaborate, then,” Felix says, “you asked me—and I quote—whether I was interested in discovering if ‘your carpets matched the drapes’.”

There’s a beat of silence.

I try very hard not to laugh, but as Anisa lets out a groan, the dam breaks—and I howl with laughter.

“OH MY GOD—” I wheeze, “—SAGE—that’s—that’s so _fucking_ stupid—you’re so _fucking_ stupid!”

Sage glares at me, but at my laughter, Anisa and Felix start to crack up as well.

“Come on!” Sage moans, “I was just making conversation!”

“And trying to get into Felix’s pants, apparently,” I cackle.

“When I declined,” Felix says, leaning towards me, “he spilled his drink on my shoes.” The smile that decorates Felix’s lips is deceptively sweet in contrast to his following words: “That is when I decided to make him suffer.”

“You vindictive little shite!” Sage gasps.

“I may have lost my dignity and most of my clothes that evening, but I bested you.” Felix shakes his head, “to think you had the nerve to ask if we’d met the following day.”

I laugh, as Sage huffs, “you think I remember every cheater that steals my clothes?”

“I was among the recruits asked to go bar hopping,” Anisa says, “it was going well until Sage showed up. I didn’t know him personally, but he had a reputation—”

“Here we go…” Sage grumbles.

Anisa rolls her eyes, “—for being an adept fighter when he wasn’t gambling, drinking or tongue dueling.”

Sage pauses. “…gods.”

I snort.

“He approached me with the same terrible line he tried on Felix,” Anisa sighs, and Felix huffs.

“Twice in one night?” I ask, sceptically.

“It’s a good line!” he argues.

“I was so in shock and inebriated, I threw my drink at him!” Anisa laughs, “Got it all down his shirt.”

“Back when he still wore those, I’m assuming,” I smirk.

Anisa smiles, “Yes. He left, but I knew I had to put him in his place,” she smirks, a brow quirked, “teach him a lesson, you know? So…I joined the game. And, not to brag, but I’ve a good poker face. I won.”

Sage grins, “Heh, joke’s on you for thinking you could teach me anything.”

“True,” I nod. Felix huffs a laugh.

“I imagine Sage stopped wearing shirts so he would no longer be coated in the stains of rejection,” Felix says.

“Seems like a reasonable conclusion to come to,” I nod, “Sage reminds me a bit of my friends back home—Sav flirts with any woman she meets, and Zen has long white hair like you do.”

“Surely you have tales to tell of your friends, don’t you?” Anisa asks. I smile.

“Not as many. Certainly not as exciting. Though we went to school together, I wasn’t…friends with Sav back then.”

“Oh?” Felix perks up, “Why is that?”

“Well, Sav wasn’t really…interested in being friends with the bully-magnet,” I laugh. “I apparently had a very ‘targetable’ personality, and I was usually the butt of the joke. But hey,” I shrug, “it’s taught me how to take myself less seriously! And joke about myself.”

“An important skill,” Sage grins. Felix on the other hand frowns.

Felix nods, “Yes, so long as you don’t overdo it.”

I shrug, “Don’t worry about it. I’m a professional.”

Felix lets out a laugh, “Ha! That is debateable.”

“So, who’s that Zen fellow you mentioned?” Sage asks.

**Felix**

“So, who’s that Zen fellow you mentioned?” Sage asks, drawing our gazes towards him and off each other. It startles me sometimes how easily Anne and I get along, but I decide not to dwell on it as I regard her once more.

“He’s…a friend of mine,” Anne says, clearly contemplating her next words carefully. “We only met recently, through a chain of…unfortunate events. He’s an actor and a romantic, but the way he handles…some things is a bit—ah. Traditional.”

“What is that to mean?” I ask, and as if given the sign to go, Anne starts talking about “Sexism” and “conservatives” and lots of earth’s politics. She makes it very clear, very quickly, that most “politics” on earth are discussions of things we take for granted—some being as simple as “women are just as capable as men” others being along the lines of “what’s in your pants is not a reflection of your gender”.

Anne knows what she’s talking about, and despite her animated speech and passionate tone of voice, it’s clear to see she’s taken the time to do her due research.

As the night carries on Anisa more than enables Anne to talk about her home at length, and often times gives her the chance to mention her friends. Anne mentions a business man and his assistant, a spy and his “maid” (????) as well as his twin brother. She mentions a student who prefers playing games than studying, and mentions a photographer who makes her worry often.

By the sounds of it, Anne has already had quite the exciting year. It makes me feel a little worse for getting her involved with…all this.

…I need to get her home as soon as possible.

Xxx

Somewhere along the line, we all were beginning to grow tired, so we parted ways. The following day Anne started to try casting spells. Her first attempts that first day were mostly unsuccessful—but I could sense the magic bubbling just beneath the surface.

She had far more magical potential than I anticipated, but still needed…that extra _push_. I found myself wondering how I could help her with that.

Xxx

**Anne**

I have been trying to cast magic for 2 days, but have been failing so far. With every passing attempt my patience grows thinner, but I refuse to give up that easily.

After Felix had seen me struggling yesterday however, he spoke up.

_“Remember to not overwork yourself,” he hummed, “even if your attempts seem fruitless, you are still using magic, which exhausts.” He stood up, “if you need a break, but find yourself unable to rest…I suggest checking the library. You had an interest in Evocation magic, did you not?”_

And that’s how I found myself in the library late last night, and ended up leaving with a book on evocation magic throughout the subgenres of magic. The book went over how necromancy uses evocation, which was what originally caught my interest.

This morning, I refused to leave my room without it, and I end up taking it with me to the cafeteria.

“No wonder you two get along so well,” Anisa’s voice is suddenly right in front of me, prompting me to look up. She stands in front of my table with a cup of what I assume is coffee. Anisa laughs, “you’re just as bad as Felix!”

I pout, “What? I can’t help it that I like to read, Anisa.”

Anisa laughs, sitting down, “I’m just teasing. What are you reading?”

“Oh,” I bite my lip, “Uh…just. About evocation stuff. I just think it’s neat.”

Anisa nods, “Evocation is quite useful, it’s a good thing to start with.”

I nod. “Yep. Seems like it.”

…the conversation lulls, and an awkward silence settles between us.

“Well,” I say, standing up and gathering my things, “I—uh. I’ll see you later, I guess.”

Anisa hums, then nods. “Yes, I’ll see you then.”

I hastily make my exit, trying not to dwell on just how awkward that was.

Xxx

**Felix**

As usual, I arrive a great deal before Anne and I’s lessons are scheduled to begin. I intend to do some more research into some things, and also meant to stop by the cafeteria for some tea. As I pass through the courtyard, the sound of music draws my attention to the yard below, where a peculiar scene unfolds:

Anne, sitting on a low wall, playing the guitar as a group of squires gather around to listen. When I hear her start to sing, I understand why they’d take the time to sit down with her.

**(Taylor Swift, Gold Rush)**

_**“**_ _I don't like a gold rush, gold rush_ _  
I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush  
I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch  
Everybody wants you  
Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you  
Walk past, quick brush  
I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush  
I don't like that falling feels like flying till the bone crush  
Everybody wants you  
But I don't like a gold rush  
  
What must it be like  
To grow up that beautiful?  
With your hair falling into place like dominos  
I see me padding across your wooden floors  
With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door  
At dinner parties  
I call you out on your contrarian shit  
And the coastal town  
We wandered round had never  
Seen a love as pure as it  
And then it fades into the gray of my day old tea  
'Cause you know it could never be.“ _

“She’s an excellent singer.”

Anisa’s voice—seemingly suddenly beside me—surprises me so much I visibly flinch. She suppresses a laugh.

I huff, turning my gaze to watch Anne, playing below us in the courtyard.

“She is,” I agree, “she’s generally a creative person.”

“And honest,” Anisa adds, “she can’t hide what she’s thinking, so it’s entertaining to see her try.”

I shake my head, “a bad trait when dealing in politics.”

“Unfortunately.”

…

By now, Anne has begun to sung a different song.

_“No one ever made me feel as small as you did,_ _  
No one made me feel as cursed._

_I'd lie awake in bed just staring at the ceiling,_ _  
Wondering if things would get worse.”  
  
“I was trapped under your thumb,  
Believing when you called it love.”  
  
“But I will forgive myself,  
And start to let it go.  
Accept that who you chose to be,  
Was out of my control.  
And though it might be hard,  
To begin again,  
I'll write myself a brand new story,  
With a happy end.  
I survived,  
So tonight,  
I am taking back my life.  
And I'll show you  
That I am not nothing.”_

The amount of emotion she pours into every word has my heart stopping and breath catching, and I can’t help but think she means every word.

She’s a happy person, though I begin to doubt that that comes from having a happy life.

I shake my head, letting the thoughts fade. “I’m going to the study for the day,” I tell Anisa, “I’ll see you around.”

She nods, “You too. Don’t stay up too late.”

I smirk, “no promises.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Felix**

A little while later in the day, Anne enters the study, seeming somewhat…distant. Her gaze is focused on nothing in particular as she joins me at the table, and her shoulders slumped in a way I am not accustomed to.

…I feel the need to check on her.

“Good afternoon, Anne,” I say, sounding much more cheerful than usual, “did you sleep well?”

She freezes, and then curls a strand of hair around her finger as she averts her gaze and shrugs, “Uh, yeah! I slept fine.”

…she’s a horrible liar.

I study her for a moment, debating if I should point it out or leave it. Her eyes meet mine, her teeth worrying at her lip, and I let out a breath, deciding to let her off the hook this time. It seems I cannot compete with her silent pleads.

“Good. I’m glad.”

She lets out a sigh, shoulders sagging, and I can’t help but smile a little. Not long after we fall into our familiar silence wherein I read, and Anne continues to practice casting in-between flipping through a book or two. The silence is only broken by either of us reading out a passage of whatever we’re reading, giving our commentary, then falling quiet once more.

“Bardic magic sounds so cool,” Anne muses, drawing my gaze, “someone should like. Pick up where the last researchers left off, it sounds like it has a lot of potential, you know?”

I hum, nodding. “You’re a musician, right?”

Anne blinks, then laughs, cheeks darkening, “um, yeah? Why?”

“Anisa and I heard you singing with the squires the other day,” I flip the page of my book.

“Oh,” she blinks. “Well,” she bites her lip, looking nervously up at me under her lashes, “did you…like it?”

For a moment I need to pause, ere I start rambling about how much it touched me.

“I did,” I say, finally, which seems to surprise her. “It has been a long time…” I pause, then sigh, “a long time since I’ve enjoyed music like that.”

“Really?” sshe asks, leaning forward, “that must have been suffocating. Is there a reason?”

I swallow, scratching my cheek as I avert my gaze. Well, _Escell ruined it for me, my childhood friend whom I always played with disappeared and I didn’t like playing without her, then Rime reignited my love but he died as well, t_ here are so many reasons.

“Not particularly,” I say, “why must it be suffocating?”

Anne shrugs, twiddling her fingers as she speaks next: “to me music is a way to decorate time, without it everything feels a little….much. and oppressive. Music is like, company for when no one is there.”

For a moment, I find my gaze glued to her—her brown eyes sparkle in the dim light, and a strand of hair falls into her face. It’s…strangely familiar, I find.

“Oh,” I say, realizing I’d been quietly looking at her for too long, “well. I used to enjoy music a far deal more, and I even had a piano tutor, but…” I pause. I almost decide to tell her about that friend, but…

“I played purposely horrible,” I say, shaking my head, “just to spite my father.” Anne chuckles, shaking her head.

“Seriously?”

“If you knew him you’d understand, I’m sure,” I huff. “Regardless, I haven’t played seriously in years.”

The last time I even tried playing seriously…was with Rime.

“Why haven’t you?” she asks, then flushes, hastily adding: “O-Only if you’re comfortable! I understand if you don’t want to talk about it.”

I lick my lips, considering once more to tell her. Instead, I sigh.

“Perhaps another time.”

Anne nods, “I understand. If you ever want to talk, if I’m not here, I’ll be making music,” she smiles, “just stop by. We can make some music, maybe talk some.”

I nod slowly, “Yes…maybe.”

That…sounds nice, all things considered. Perhaps…it would be fun to play again?

“So,” Anne hums, “about bardic magic—”

Immediately, we are drawn back into our previous discussion, as if nothing happened.

I appreciate her for diverting the conversation with ease.

Xxx

That night I find myself in the fortress library, searching for anything that could be of interest to us. I had only meant to spend an hour or two there, but by the time I finally leave it’s much later.

I start to head back to the Gull, but find myself frozen in my tracks when I hear a familiar voice singing an unfamiliar song. I hesitate for a moment before following the music to it’s source, the mess hall. When I enter the room, I spot Anne sitting at the piano in the corner.

She starts singing, and the gravity of the song is impossible to miss.

**(Marjorie, Taylor Swift** )

“ _Never be so kind, you forget to be clever  
Never be so clever, you forget to be kind  
  
And if I didn't know better  
I'd think you were talking to me now  
If I didn't know better  
I'd think you were still around  
What died didn't stay dead  
What died didn't stay dead  
You're alive, you're alive in my head  
What died didn't stay dead  
What died didn't stay dead  
You're alive, so alive  
  
Never be so polite, you forget your power  
Never wield such power, you forget to be polite  
  
And if I didn't know better  
I'd think you were listening to me now  
If I didn't know better  
I'd think you were still around  
What died didn't stay dead  
What died didn't stay dead  
You're alive, you're alive in my head  
What died didn't stay dead  
What died didn't stay dead  
You're alive, so alive  
  
The autumn chill that wakes me up  
You loved the amber skies so much  
Long limbs and frozen swims  
You'd always go past where our feet could touch  
And I complained the whole way there  
The car ride back and up the stairs  
I should've asked you questions  
I should've asked you how to be  
Asked you to write it down for me  
Should've kept every grocery store receipt  
'Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me  
Watched as you signed your name Marjorie  
All your closets of backlogged dreams  
And how you left them all to me.”_

The silence that follows rings out as Anne lifts her head toward the ceiling. My throat is tight, and it feels like I’m about to choke on nothing. Instead of perishing from the emotion, I manage to choke out:

“That was...” her head jerks to look at me. even so, I can only shake my head, inhaling deeply in my awe, “…wow.”

She blinks, then chuckles, rubbing her eyes, “heh, did I really render the eloquent Felix Escellun speechless?”

I scoff, rolling my eyes as I approach, “Funny.”

She grins, “I thought so,” she wipes down the keys of the piano, then crosses her arms on the piano, resting her head on them, “what are you still doing here?”

“Research,” I say, resting my arm on the piano as well, “as usual.”

She smiles, “your quest for knowledge is never over, is it?”

“Well, they do say knowledge is power,” I say. She nods.

“They do say that,” her eyes flicker to her hands, then to the window, “it’s true, after all.”

I hum, “I’m glad we agree.”

Silence settles between us. It is not like with others, where it feels like something needs to be said. It is simply…silence.

I find myself not minding it.

“It’s a full moon tonight,” she whispers, gaze focused somewhere far away. I hum.

“It is,” I smile, “I’ve always found full moons to aid in casting.”

She nods, “yeah. I get that. Even on earth there’s something…magical, about the moon.” She hums, tilting her head to the side. “I remember my dad used to love moon patterned things,” she muses, “he loved astrology in general, but especially the moon. Looking at the moon here…I finally get it.”

I tilt my head, “used to?”

“Well, yeah,” she shrugs, smirking lightly as she gazes at me, “it’s kinda hard to love something if you’re dead.”

My heart sinks, and I suck in a breath.

“I—I’m sorry,” I stutter, “I didn’t…mean to….you know.”

She chuckles, “It’s fine,” she shrugs, “I’ve learned to cope with it.”

I quirk a brow, “how so? Joking about it?”

“Only recently,” she winks. She giggles when I roll my eyes, sighing as she stands.

“I mean,” she shrugs, “I had no real choice but to learn how to live with it. the world still moved on, whether or not I was doing okay without my family,” she shrugs, “if I wanted to stay alive, I needed to keep moving with it.”

“You wanted to stay alive, though,” I say, slowly. She shakes her head.

“For a while I didn’t,” she runs her fingers over a nearby table, “for a while, I was so tired, I just wanted it to end. But something was begging me not to. Something was stopping me.” she bites her lip, gazing to the side before looking at me, “I like to think it was them, screaming at me from heaven to pick myself up,” she giggles, shrugging, spreading her arms, “just like I always have. And I always will.”

I find myself staring at her in awe, then catching myself, and smirking. “So optimistic,” I shake my head, “wherever did you get all that sunshine, barista?”

She laughs, “it’s a learned thing,” she glances to the side, shrugging, “and my parents were very good teachers.”

I find myself smiling, humming. “I am glad that, if nothing else, you had a good childhood.”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, “it’d be better if I remembered half of it.”

I blink, a little surprised. “Pardon?”

“I’m missing like,” she waves her hand this way and that, “half of my childhood memories. I only have bits and pieces.” She regards me, biting her lip. She looks like she’s about to say something, but instead she shakes her head, snapping her fingers, “it’s fine though, I have plenty to make up for it.”

I hum, nodding mindlessly. It’s odd how similar we are, barring the opposing levels of optimism.

I’m torn from my thoughts when she yawns. I look at her, and even as she stretches, I catch her blushing, and I can’t help but smirk.

“Tired, sunflower?” I don’t know why I say it. it just happens. She doesn’t seem to mind.

“What gave it away?” she grins, heading for the door, “you should head back soon too,” she nods to the door, “we start pretty early.”

I hum, straightening my back, “Yes, well. I was on my way, you interrupted me.”

“My apologies,” she bows theatrically, “your royal emo-ness.”

I huff. Throughout the days I had learnt was “emo” and “goth” (among others) meant, and while I thought this was inaccurate, she hadn’t let up on giving me related nicknames. I found myself not minding, though I always make a point to roll my eyes, as I do now.

_She can be so cheeky,_ I think as we part ways, and she gives me a cheeky, toothy grin.


	8. Chapter 8

**Anne**

Two days later, I still haven’t casted a single spell. Anisa assures me it’s hard, and Sage tells me Felix is a bad teacher, but I know the latter certainly isn’t true, and until now, the former wasn’t either—not for me.

But today I wake up, and I nearly cry at the thought of attempting magic again, and I figure it’s high time I took a break from it. I grab my jacket, my notebook, and my pens, and venture into the forest surrounding Mournfall.

I don’t go so far that I get lost, but far enough that the noises from town are a distant murmur, drowned out by the woods.

Honestly, I’m not sure if being alone with my thoughts was smart, but I end up spending all morning sitting in the forest, singing as I draw.

Around 9, a now familiar voice makes me flinch and look up:

“You know people worry when you leave without a trace?”

_Felix_.

I frown, glaring at the ground, “I told Sage.”

“Sage is horrid at communication,” he scoffs, planting a hand on his hip, “what in the hells are you doing moping all the way out here for?”

I flinch, then whip my head up to glare at him, “I’m not moping!”

“Pouting, then—”

“No!” I stand up, “I’m not! I—”

“Then what?” he asks, “when we speak of taking breaks we typically mean a few hours, not a whole day.”

As he rambles, my blood boils, and I clench my fists. I think he’s just trying to tease, but every jab hurts like a stab wound, and in a blink, the mug of emotions inside me swells over, and I snap:

“Shut up!! You have no idea what it’s like—living knowing I’ll never be _gifted_!” I shout, and he flinches back, “That every skill I learn will come at the price of _blood_ , and _sweat_ , and **tears**. I am reminded of the fact that I will _always_ have to work 5 times harder to get the bare minimum, because my brain is _broken_ and there is **no** _cure_.”

My voice breaks, emotion staining my speech. I scowl, crossing my arms and glaring at the floor at Felix’s stunned silence. My heart pounds, hands shaking as my fingers curl. After a few seconds, he speaks:

“Nothing comes without practice,” he says cautiously, “but…you know that. You said it yourself, yesterday.”

My tense shoulders go lax with a sigh, “yes. Nothing in life comes without trying first…but,” I look at him, “most people don’t need 15 tries to get them up that first step.” I screw my eyes shut, willing the tears to go away as I look at the sky, “I _never_ get to be good at things. I am only ever _okay_ at them,” I meet his gaze, “I never get to have good grades, or learn like a _normal_ person. I need _special treatment_ , and I’m **_tired_** of having to fight for my life for a _crumb_ of success!”

Again, my voice cracks, and tears line my eyes. Felix is apparently stunned into silence by my outburst—which I am still not done with.

“Every time I try to learn,” I stand up, “I need 15 different tricks and shortcuts to stay on track, because my dumbass ADHD brain doesn’t know how to be **NORMAL**!”

…the clearing falls quiet, the only sound disturbing it the scattered woodland creatures.

For an entire minute, there is silence.

“I have never been naturally good at anything, since magic,” Felix says carefully, quietly. I quirk a brow, slowly. He takes a deep breath.

“and, to be fair, being gifted at conjuring magic doesn’t mean I had a talent for the rules of the craft,” he shrugs, “I could conjure magic, yes, but on accident, or as an emotional response. It took time to conjure it at will, and refrain from it when emotionally charged. And…I am still a far worse spellwrite than you.”

I blink, digesting the information as he slowly approaches me.

“I will not pretend to know how you feel,” he says, “how this situation feels, but I will tell you that no one has ever found magic simple.” Felix falters. “Well, aside from my father, who some say forged a pact with a demon to become so powerful.”

I find myself snorting, pressing my palm to my lips to stifle the sound. Felix smiles, and I feel my face burn at he regards me.

“I promise you,” he says, “you will learn to conjure magic. You will learn the rules, and how to use your magic. I feel it burning within you, brightly, and I _know_ you will be able to channel it. Your passion, and your creativity will be _paramount_ to that. So… _please_ ,” He meets my gaze—his eyes bright, silver with an undertone of emerald green that takes my breath away--he whispers: “Trust me on this.”

For a moment, I’m silent, lips parted slightly, eyes lined with unshed tears. 

And then I smile. And I nod.

“okay,” I nod again, “I trust you.”

He smiles, shoulders relaxing. “Thank you.”

I nod. “Sorry. About yelling.”

He smiles, “It’s quite alright.”

A beat of silence. I want to hug him--

“May I ask you something?” He asks. I blink, then nod. “You mentioned something…about an incurable disease?”

“ADHD?” I ask, lip quirking.

“That,” he nods, snapping his fingers, “do you…want to explain what that is?”

My eyes widen. “Oh! Oh, yes, of course,” I run a hand through my hair. In my emotional outburst, I forget he wouldn’t even know what it is…

“ADHD is an acronym for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. It basically means that I have trouble direction where how much of my attention goes, and I’m hyperactive in one way or another.” I shake my head and wave my hand this way and that, “there’s more to it but the basic principle is that I don’t get to decide what I put all my focus on, and it depends on what I find most interesting. Basically, it makes school hell for me. ADHD is different for everyone, but with the type I have, all my hyperactivity is mental. This means I’m always thinking, and I can’t turn it off.”

I press my lips together, “It’s a disability like any other—like blindness or being deaf—and impacts my life to a…” I chuckle, “a pretty big degree. It’s invalidated by folks a lot though. It’s…perceived as laziness. Um, it also comes with RSD—rejection sensitive dysphoria—which makes receiving rejection or critique impossible without breaking down in tears or self doubt…”

I blink. I notice I’ve gone on quite the tangent. I glance at Felix, who looks genuinely…interested. Under his intent gaze I feel my face burn.

“I’m sorry,” I bite my lip, “I’ve been rambling…there’s a lot to ADHD.”

“I can tell,” he huffs, leaning back and crossing his arms, “I do not mind. I like hearing your thoughts. And I’d like to learn more.”

I bite my lip, “…we still have magic lessons to do…”

He waves a hand, “we can wait on that until tomorrow, the one day won’t make a difference,” I lock eyes with him, “So please…continue.”

My eyes widen, and I chuckle and I find myself grinning. It’s been a while since I got to infodump…

“Well. in that case,” I straighten. I make a move towards the nearby log I’d been sitting on, and as he follows, I speak:

“ADHD is caused in part by a lack of dopamine—the thing in our brains that doing a task will be rewarding. People with ADHD have less of that by default, so doing tedious or boring tasks are…difficult, and…”

As I speak, he hangs onto every word, as if it means everything to him…

For a while, it’s only us. For a while, it feels like nothing else really matters.

It’s… _nice_.

I love it, honestly.

In the afternoon, we head back to the fortress. We get into a conversation about our school lives, and I mention how I went to a school for “rich and intelligent” kids. I learn about Felix attending an equally prestigious academy, and how he got kicked out. Apparently, Felix was quite the prankster.

…huh.

Fascinating.

Xxx

**Felix**

We are sitting on the couch in the study, and I don’t know how it happened, but Anne somehow got me to start talking about languages, of all things, for nearly 20 minutes.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” I say, flushing as I reign in my opinions on linguistics in schools. “This must make no sense…”

“No, no!” she hastily exclaims, a hand flying to my shoulder, “it’s really interesting!”

“It’s not stupid?” I question, quizzically, “to be so invested in linguistics?”

She shakes her head, “of course not! If it interests you it’s not stupid.”

I bite my lip.

“ _Stop talking about petty linguistics,” Escell scoffs, “the only reason you need a variety of languages is for business purposes. You need not know the boring histories or developments of the languages you speak, boy.”_

_“I can’t understand a word you’re saying,” Sage groans, “can’t you have normal interests? Like I don’t know, fucking fiction books?”_

I know Sage means no harm, but that does not lighten his words that still sting in the back of my mind.

“I grew up with people calling my interests dumb,” Anne muses, drawing me from my thoughts, “so…I know the feeling…thinking you need to reign ‘em in cuz it’s dumb,” she looks to me, drawing her knees to her chest, “So. I’m here to tell you that I think it’s interesting. And you should definitely keep talking.”

For a moment I am stunned into silence. Her unconditional support it…not something I am used to.

But I appreciate it more than she could ever know.

I smirk, “Very well. but do not say I did not warn you.”

“Yes sir!” she mock salutes.

…I hum. 

Xxx

Anne is an open person, but I note that she doesn’t bring up things if they aren’t the topic of conversation—proven by the fact that it’s the 6th day of her stay here, and Annie and Sage still are unaware of her ADHD.

It’s a strangely…nice feeling…being the one person she confided that information it—it makes my heart flutter and cheeks burn.

Even though I know she only told me because I asked.

Throughout the days, I find myself gravitating towards her, and winding up having conversations lasting well into the night. Mostly about magic and ADHD, though sometimes about far less relevant topics, like moral codes and theater and fashion and cultures.

And I find myself weirdly interested in her sparring sessions with Anisa outside the study.

Today is one of the mornings where I find myself watching her spar, as opposed to planning our lesson.

Anne is wielding a quarterstaff, and lands a surprisingly powerful blow on Annie. As the fact sinks in that she startled Annie—though not breaking her defenses—a satisfied smirk decorates her lip, and the sight of that, as well as the sweat trickling down her neck has me feeling hot myself, a warmth coiling in my stomach.

“Enjoying the view?”

“AHH!”

Sage’s voice suddenly tears me from my…observing, and I reflexively shriek, flinching as far away as I can get without jumping across the room.

“ _Sage_ ,” I hiss, clutching my chest, “what in the hells— _where_ did you come from!?”

He blinks, expression blank. “The door,” he nods back, then regards me with a smirk, “the better question is, what’re _you_ looking at?~”

I flush, glaring at the wall, “I was…observing.”

“Right. Observing Anne’s butt I bet.”

The grin on his face is decidedly wolfish, and I scoff in disgust.

“What?! No! I’m not _you_ , Sage.”

I was looking at her neck, after all.

And I find myself thinking about having my hands around her neck, and how cute she’d sound trying to beg—

_Wait. What?_

Sage’s chuckling thankfully distracts me from my…unexpected thoughts. However, now I _know_ I’m blushing.

“You’re checking her out,” he purrs.

I pout, crossing my arms. “Am not.”

“You like her,” he states. It’s not a question.

“She’s kind,” I reply, “and passionate and fun. She doesn’t…” _make fun of me_ , “disregard me.”

_She makes me feel safe._

“She’s pretty funny,” Sage agrees with a nod, “Anisa and I like her too.”

_Like_.

I wonder why she seems lonely, at times, when she seems to get along with everyone she meets.

“I need to research,” I mutter, “be quiet or leave.”

Sage growls at me, “fine. Then I’ll just go spar with them.”

And then he’s gone.

The only sound is the distant sound of wood clashing against wood, and Anne’s exclaims of exhaustion.

I’m not really reading the book I open when I sit down, thoughts of Anne consuming my mind and serving a welcome distraction.

Xxx

I tried to avoid Anne, after my earlier thoughts involving her neck and my hands had left an…impression.

Regrettably, three hours later, I can’t avoid her, as Anne and I are sitting in the study together, and Anne is trying to get the same feather to float she’s been working with for almost a week now.

“I can’t do this.”

Her voice cuts through the quiet, accompanied by a groan, and I can’t help but offer a half smile at her outburst. 

“Well, well, well, I had not imagined my apprentice so easily flustered.” I hum, resting my head on my knuckles, “Do not give in to frustration. Naar Vilar was not built in a single day.”

“That’s a place, I’m presuming?” she gives me a playful smirk, and eyebrow quirked.

“Correct. It’s a Velan saying,” I close my book, easing off my glasses, “have patience, dear Barista. You will harness your magic.”

**Anne**

“Have patience, dear barista. You will harness your magic.”

He says that, and I can’t help but genuinely believe him.

I hum, “Was it hard for you?”

He hums. “Well, I was practically born slinging spells. Though, that is on account of my…unusual birth,” he shakes off my confused look with the shake of his head, “but that does not mean I understood the practice and laws of it. On that account, you are further ahead than most mages. You are a far better spellwrite than me, for example.”

I hum, tapping my lip.

“However,” he says, smiling now, “in my second year I gave my caretaker quite the scare. Dear Anat happened upon me setting all my stuffed toys ablaze.”

I can’t help the bewildered—albeit delighted—look on my face as I splutter:

“you _what_?”

He lets out a dry bark of laughter, and I can’t help but smile at the sound, feeling pride for making him laugh.

“yes, I’m told she nearly quit right then. No harm was done, aside for the dolls.” He heaves a sigh, “ah, how I do treasure those melted monstrosities.”

I chuckle, though my insecurities well back to the surface. Despite talking about it a few days ago, I find myself asking again:

“Have you considered the chance that I just can’t do magic?”

He fixes me with a serious look, pressing his palms together. He steeples his fingers.

“don’t be absurd. I told you before—you have magic within you—and lots of it.” his gray eyes fix me with such intensity I feel it’s intensity throughout my whole body in forms of shivers, “it burns within your breast like a smoldering ember. When you are ready it will spark, leaping into flames.”

I hum, biting my nail as my mind whirls.

“it’s like there’s…” I wave my hands vaguely, “I can’t describe it but it’s like I know it’s there I feel it too but it just—is stuck. Like it needs…something to help jump start it. Like a stuttering engine.”

For a second, we both find ourselves glaring at the table, searching our brains for an answer. Then it hits me like a truck—as it seems to hit Felix, as we exclaim at the same time:

“A catalyst!”

I grin, mirroring his expression, and a second later he jumps up, slips on his glasses as he summons a book into his palm as he speaks:

“What you _need_ is a catalyst,” the book opens, the pages fluttering, “for some, magic comes as easily as breathing or blinking, but for others it requires a little help to get started. And others again may never learn the craft—” he looks at me over the rim of his glasses, “I suggest never asking Sage to demonstrate his _talents_.”

“I’m going to assume,” I drawl, “like with being unable to summon food or drink, there is no spell for jump starting magic, correct?”

He smiles, nods.

I grin, feeling a wave of pride.

“knowledge is the sharpest blade of all,” he continues, “and you have the basics down, and the rest—I can provide.”

His gaze is sharp, stealing my breath and leaving me stunned.

“Why, during my studies—”

In the middle of his speech I am filled with an incredible dizziness, and I waver where I sit, dropping my head into my hands with a sharp breath. I take a moment to settle my suddenly erratic heartbeat, before looking up again, my fingers pressing my temples.

Felix looks concerned, his brows creased in worry—and my heart aches, and I yearn to smoothen his brows out.

“Are you feeling well?” he asks, “you look a bit unsteady.”

I groan, “just…ah, dizzy. It’s nothing.”

He frowns, “you shouldn’t brush of your pain,” he huffs, “it’s your body telling you to take it easy, so you oughta listen.”

_Hypocrite_.

“that being said,” he hums, voice soft, “magic exhausts-- both mentally and physically. You must take care not to overwork yourself.” He shakes his head, “Is that why you have been up late enough for bags to form under your eyes? Practicing magic?”

I huff, “Now hold on a minute! You’re not much better!” I point at his nose, and his eyes cross in an attempt to follow my finger, “Don’t pretend! I’ve seen you take cat-naps in practically every corner of the barracks!”

He pouts. He crossing his arms, looking away, “I am an experienced mage. And trying to find a way to _help_ you!”

I shake my head, crossing my arms, “Doesn’t matter. Same rules apply to me as they do you.”

He scowls. There’s decidedly little menace behind it. “You will not let this go, will you?”

“Nope,” I place my hands on my hips, “if you complain about my habits, I can point out yours.”

He sighs, a slight blush on his cheeks, “Fair enough.”

I nod decisively.

Then I remember the night I arrived—he performed a ritual, opened two portals, and if I had to wager I guess, I doubt just any normal mage could perform such exhausting-seeming feats of magic in one night.

“is that why you mistook me for someone else when we met?”

The question leaves my mouth, and I instantly regret it as a feeling of regret and grief flash across his features. But then he is also blushing, clearly remembering hugging me, and that burning hand kiss that I felt for the rest of the day.

“A-as you know, exhaustion comes in many forms,” he stutters, “dizziness, weakness, even hallucinations. “ He clears his throat, “the hour grows late. Let us call it a night.”

I nod.

I briefly entertain the idea of asking if I could go to magic school, but I wave it off as we begin tidying up the study. I don’t fancy the idea of another damned school setting, and somehow I feel that I may hate magic school just as much as normal school.

Apparently Felix is in just as deep a thought, as he carelessly knocks into a teapot. Instinctually, we both dive to catch it—

And in the process, his hand comes to rest atop mine, atop the porcelain.

Our eyes meet, and for a moment, all is quiet. My hand burns where our skin meets.

Then, he gasps, cheeks burning.

“Oh!” he pulls his hands back, shakes them, then rakes them through his hair. “My…my thanks. I’ll uh, take my, er…leave.”

And just like that he’s rushing out of the study.

The teacup floats, suspended in the air all night.

xxxx

**Anne**

The following day starts with Sage giving me pointers as we spar. Soon, however, the “pointers” turn into thinly veiled flirtations.

“If you ever get tired of the spiritual arts,” he grins wolfishly, “I can teach you something about the sensual~”

I groan, managing to whack him on the head with my staff, “Will you stop!?” even though I shout, I can’t help but laugh.

Sage cackles, “Right, right, sorry! Forgot you were too whipped for Felix to flirt with anyone!”

I flounder, face burning in an instant, “Wh-what!?” I flinch away from him, “I’m not--! That’s not--! Hey!”

Immediately, Sage doubles over laughing, “ohhhh man! Ahahaha! You two are _so_ fun to tease!”

I frown at him, unimpressed, letting my arms fall to my sides. “You’re a moron, Sage,” I grumble.

Luckily, before he can retort with something even dumber, Anisa passes by the courtyard, calling out to me as soon as she spots me.

“Anne!” she waves, “Good morning! How is training going?”

I rolls my eyes, shrugging, “Oh you know,” I grin, “as good as it can with such an explosive teacher.”

“Hey!” Sage protests, but I ignore him, as does Anisa.

“Good! I trust magic classes are faring equally well?”

I wince, “Ah…well. Those. Less good.”

Sage joins us, “with a teacher like Felix, it’s a miracle you haven’t killed him or quit.”

I roll my eyes as Anisa interjects: “I’m sure you’re doing great. Learning magic is hard,” she glares at Sage, “and some have still not mastered it.”

I snort. “Yeah, Sage,” I grin at him, “come back when you can cast a shield, yeah?”

He pouts, his ears pinned to his head. I giggle.

“Alright,” I sigh, “I should get going. I need to keep trying to make a feather float.”

Anisa nods, “Before you go,” she hands me a letter she’d been holding, “give this to Felix. I’m told it arrived for him this morning.”

I take the envelope and examine it. the wax seal is thick and red, and I can’t really make out the graving inside it. I purse my lips, then nod.

“Will do,” I say, saluting Anisa playfully, “and see you later!”

She smiles, nodding as I turn to head to change into…something that isn’t what is basically a sports bra and jeans.

Xxx

_**[NSFW Extra: Felix's Dream]** _

Anne is sparring with Sage by the time I have already settled into the study. It takes little time for the quiet of the room to lull me into a light sleep.

My dream, however, is fairly lovely.

I suppose the image of Anne sweating and flushed has been burnt into my mind from watching her train for almost 2 weeks, as that is precisely how my dream begins.

I’m leaning over her naked, flushed form, with my fingers buried in her folds. She’s whining and squirming, hair fanned out like a halo around her.

“Please,” she begs, voice a long whine, back arching.

I smirk, “please what?”

“please,” she rasps, eyes opening and burning like embers, “fuck me.”

My breath stutters, but then I lean in to kiss her with a low growl—“with pleasure, my love.”

She whines again as I curl my fingers, making her gasp, back arching. I move my fingers, alternating between rubbing her clit, and inside her pussy, and the gasps and moans she makes are—

Intoxicating.

I’d listen to them forever if I could.

Then her hand moves, and I grab her wrist, pressing her palm to my cheek, and I smile.

And then—

“Felix!?”

My eyes open.


	9. Chapter 9

**Felix**

When I open my eyes, I feel a warmth on my cheek.

“Morning Lov—” I begin, only to gasp when I recognize Anne—the real one—standing before me, hand pressed to my cheek, her own cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

She doesn’t look disgusted, simply surprised, I note.

“oh!” I flinch away, knocking a cup over and sending a quill rolling off the desk as I sit upright, “my apologies!” My cheeks burn in ways they haven’t in years.

“I was, uh…just…” I splutter, wracking my brain for an excuse as I right my glasses.

“Having a nice dream?”

Her voice is gentle and when I spare a glance her way, her cheeks are pink, her eyes shining, and a hand is brushing red curls off her shoulder.

It’s adorable.

“it looked like you were,” she adds.

I feel my cheeks burn, as I vaguely recall my dream, though I can only remember a flushed face pinned below me, “Was I…?”

I swallow thickly as she shakes her head fondly. Slowly, I relax.

I yawn, rubbing the corner of my eye before resting my chin on my hand. She takes a seat, tucking a foot between herself and the chair. I smile, tapping my foot on the wooden beam of the chair I’ve tucked it behind.

“did you stay up all night again?” she asks, then tuts, “maybe we should skip lessons today—”

“Nonsense,” I interrupt, “all I require is some sustenance.”

I lift the top of the tea kettle—which I find empty. I frown. I’m reminded of a conversation we had her first day here, where I explained why I could not simply conjure more tea.

“I can get some more,” she offers, reaching for the kettle, “what was in it? Tea? Coffee?”

I huff, “you needn’t worry yourself with that.”

“It’s no big deal, really—”

“Procrastinating won’t make casting any easier, barista,” I smirk. She flushes, pouting at me.

“Meanie,” she huffs.

“I think you mean realist, dear barista,” I correct.

She rolls her eyes, sitting down again. I drag a plate of pastries from last night close and poke one experimentally. It’s stale, but not terribly so.

I’ve had worse, probably.

I hum thoughtfully, “I haven’t fallen asleep in my books since…” I pause to think, then chuckle. “Well, since I was a student.” I shake my head, “I used to lose myself in study, sleeping in the library of multiple occasions.” I huff a laugh, smirking, “I never imagined I’d almost miss it.”

She nods with a gentle laugh, “I get that. I don’t want to imagine how much sleep I’ve lost to watching videos about Last Legacy.”

We share an understanding look with one another. It’s…nice to finally be able to have someone understand what I mean.

I interrupt the silence by taking a bite of the scone.

“So,” she says, clapping her hands, “What are we trying today?”

I swallow, clear my throat, “Well—”

And stop short as I spot something in her hand.

“What is that?” I ask, pointing to it. she blinks, then gasps.

“Ah!” she hands it to me, “Anisa said this came for you. Here.”

I frown, taking the letter. I examine the seal, and immediately recognize it. my lips flatten to a thin line.

“Something wrong?” she asks, looking extremely worried.

I click my tongue, casting a simple flame spell on the letter. It bursts into green flame, and I clap my hands, clearing them of the ashes.

“No,” I huff, “It was nothing.” I scoff, glancing away, “it’s as though the very universe conspires to annoy me today.”

I lean back, crossing my leg over the other. I’m reaching for my tea cup, when at the same moment—

BANG!

The door is slammed open.

I groan in annoyance. In the door stands Sage, who promptly becomes the target of my annoyance.

“What do you want?” I snap, “Anne and I are quite busy, you know.”

I bite into my scone for emphasis.

“We’ve got to move,” Sage grumbles, “another interloper turned up.”

My eyes widen, but Anne beats me to speaking.

“Interloper?” she asks, “another traveler like me?”

Sage nods, “Aye. She’s in the infirmary, Anisa’s already there.”

“Well!” I jump up, heading for the door, “what are we waiting for? There is no time to waste! We must question her at once!”

I head out the door and down the hallway…

Only to realize I have no idea where I’m going. I turn back and poke my head back through the door.

“Where exactly is the infirmary again?”

Xxx

**Anne**

A few moments later we are climbing stairs to get to the infirmary, isolated from the main hall. As we climb, I notice the shape of a person—only slightly taller than me—pass us.

As we walk beside one another, a deep chill settles over me, and my blood runs cold. My body screams _danger_! but I do my best to ignore the shaking of my hands as they distance themselves from me. Even as they walk away, I try to peer after them without them noticing.

“Anne?”

Felix’s voice tears me from my focus on the stranger, and when I look up at him his brow is quirked in question—and worry.

“I’m fine,” I assure him, “just…thinking.”

I look back to where the figure was, but the staircase is empty. I wonder if I could’ve hallucinated it—

_You must have imagined it._

It’s strange how Isaac’s voice is the one who says that to me, but he did say it a lot. I shake my head.

Maybe I did.

“Are you certain?” Felix asks.

I smile and give a tense nod, “Yes.”

He gives me a once over, looks me in the eyes for a moment, as if trying to discern if I’m lying. His cold green-gray gaze has me tensing slightly, unable to move due to the intensity. My stomach flutters. Finally, he nods, continuing up the staircase. I sigh, following suit.

Once we reach the top, Anisa lets us into a nearby room. Upon entering, I immediately recognize who sits there. The words slip out before I can stop them.

“Celena?”

I’m bewildered beyond belief, _how in the hells is she here_?

Anisa, on the other hand, carries on like nothing’s wrong.

“Nice to meet you Celena,” Anisa says, “you may not know us, but we wish to help you.” the smile on Anisa’s face is welcoming, but Celena still looks uneasy.

“Do you perchance know how you came to this realm? Who brought you here?” Felix asks. I frown.

She seems scared, and I doubt all this attention is helping that.

“Do you remember me?” I cut in, crouching in front of her, “I’m Anne. We met, back on Earth.”

She glances at me. something feels off.

I ignore it.

“Anne?” she whispers. She nods, “I-I remember you.”

“You know her?” Anisa asks. I nod.

“A bit, yeah,” I nod, “We’ve met.”

Sage hums, “she might not appreciate three strangers breathing down her neck.”

Felix opens his mouth to speak, but Anisa beats him to it, “I agree. This must be much to take it,” she nods to me, “We’ll give you two space.”

A bad feeling settles in my gut, and I almost brush it off—

But Felix approaches me.

“Something about this feels amiss,” he whispers. His eyes meet mine, “Please be careful.”

I suck in a breath. 

…maybe I should trust my intuition a bit more, if Felix feels the same…

**Felix**

She sucks in a breath at my suggestion.

“Agreed,” she nods, “I will, but…” she tilts her head, “stay close?” she whispers softly, then, lighter, barely audible, “please?”

Her voice borders on a whine, brown eyes shining with hope at me. I swallow, hoping to calm my rapid heart.

“Of course,” I say, sounding surprisingly confident.

And then we leave.

“What do you think?” Sage asks Anisa.

She shrugs, “Celena is scared. I don’t think she’s a threat, and even if she were, Anne could handle herself.” Anisa grins, “she’s caught on surprisingly quick.”

_As opposed to her magic lessons,_ I think, though I correct myself; _she is great at understanding the fundamentals, it’s translating it into practice that is hard._

And I’m torn from my thoughts at a loud shout from beyond the door, followed by shiver that shoots up my spine—

_Magic_.

The three of us rush into the room, where Anne is sitting on the floor near the door, remnants of an _intense_ and _bright_ light spell flickering out in front of her--and Celena is on the offensive, but clearly struggling to see.

“Anne!” I gasp.

“Felix!” Anne exclaims, head whipping up, “she’s possessed or something, be careful!”

I nod, striding forward, pushing past Anisa and Sage.

Sage goes for his sword, but I raise a hand, stopping him. “Allow me,” I hum. I address the spirit, “I ask you to vacate that body at once.”

“Die!” Celena snarls. She jumps onto the table and hisses. I huff.

“Then you leave me no choice.”

I reach out with my right hand, fingers closing to a fist, and the effect is immediate. Celena chokes, hands flying to her throat. She’s abruptly yanked into the air, and I approach slowly as she hisses and snarls. I observe the spell that was used, then hum appreciatively.

“What a clever bit of spellwork,” I smirk, “Pity I’ll have to break it.”

I slowly twist my hand and Celena gives an inhuman howl as I begin extracting the spirit from her body. Smoke rolls off her, gathering at my feet. The spirit fights my spell, and I grit my teeth, closing my eyes as I focus on my magic wrapping around the corrupt soul.

Seconds pass, and Celena’s howls grow louder—and Anisa’s patience wears thin.

“What are you doing!?” she exclaims, “Just banish it!”

I click my tongue, “I’ve nearly got it!”

Then, a second later, Celena goes limp, and drops onto the table as the darkness swirls, gathering in an orb in my palm.

“What is that?” Anne asks, sliding up to peer at it, her hands clutched over her chest, curiosity sparkling in brown eyes.

“A spirit,” I say, “a very old, very corrupt one.” 

“We need to get Celena to a bed,” Anisa says.

I nod, and Anisa slides her arms under the woman’s limp body. I linger to make sure what I fear is true.

“Sage and I will wait outside,” Anne tells me, a hand on my shoulder. If it was anyone else, I’d have flinched away. But I nod.

And she nods back before heading out.

Xxx

Anne notices us as we step into the hall, pushing off the wall and striding towards me—though she slows to a stop a few feet away.

“How is she?” she asks.

“Entirely unresponsive on account of her lack of a spirit.” 

Anne frowns, “so…like, sleeping?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Anisa says, then nods. 

Sage, who still leans against the wall, crossing his arms. His ears flick, “You pulled one spirit out. Can’t you shove hers back in?”

“I think you’d need to, yknow,” she shrugs, a hand on her hip, “have her spirit in your possession to do that,” Anne deadpans to him, then turns to me, “or something. Right?”

I manage not to look too surprised at how easily she had caught on, “yes. That is. Close enough.”

“But why wouldn’t it be here?” Sage asks.

I give a derisive snort, “do you think her spirit just left her body?” I shake my head, “someone excised her spirit. Likely bottled it up and departed ere we found her.”

Anne hums, a thumb and finger on her chin, “Why would someone steal a spirit?” she tilts her head, “is there some way to extract information from it?”

I nod, “Exactly, there are many ways.”

“Spirit theft has always been a necromancer’s trick,” Anisa interrupts, though my gaze lingers on Anne’s, where interest shines like stars. “you could have just banished the spirit instead of ripping it out of her like that,” Anisa sneers.

I huff, turning my gaze to Anisa, “how polite of you to save your reservations for after I’ve used my wicked arts to save the day.”

“Why did you exercise it instead of banishing it?” Anne asks, a genuine interest in her voice, as opposed to Anisa’s reprimanding tone.

“I trapped it in an inert form, so that we may learn who set it against us.” I lock gazes with Annie and Sage, “or is research immoral too? Tell me, where do you draw the line?”

Anne nods, but Anisa and Sage are frowning. Anisa plants her hands on her hips.

“Spare me the righteous indignation. You can’t actually believe using spirits is moral.” She closes her eyes, “We can’t stoop to the methods of our adversaries.”

I feel Anne bristle beside me, but I’m too caught up in the budding argument to investigate further.

“oh, I’m stooping?” I cut in.

“She’s got a point,” Sage admits after a beat of silence.

“No she doesn’t.”

Anne’s voice rings through the hall, effectively gaining our attention.

It’s the first time she’s gotten mad at either of them. The surprise is palpable on their faces.

“The way I see it,” she begins, slowly, “Necromancy—like all magic—is a tool for people to use. It depends on the user if it is for good or evil, but the practice itself isn’t inherently bad.” She purses her lips, faltering. “That’s. That’s what I think. But, considering I’ve been studying magic for a week….I…I dunno.”

“You are right,” I say, quick enough to ensure she has no time to doubt herself—which she does often if her input is left hanging in the air for too long, I’ve found—“we must use every tool at our disposal. ‘know thy enemy’, was that not the counsel of our late leader?”

“Yeah, and ‘careful or you risk becoming that which you fight’,” Sage interrupts glumly.

“Look where that got him,” I hiss, “dead and buried like all the rest. You may not like my methods, but…” I scowl.

“I will not suffer another unnecessary death!”

My outburst hangs in the air, but from under my bangs I can see Anne, looking wide eyed at me, hand on her chest.

“Felix...” Anisa breathes, reaching out to comfort me, but I jerk back.

I inhale sharply, “I shall be researching a way to track our wayward spirit. If anyone has need of me, I will be in the study.”

I stalk off, only hearing a faint murmur of Anisa’s voice as I reach the study around the corner. I enter the room, close the door, and immediately flop onto the couch, face in my hands.

A few moments later the door opens, and the sweet scent of cinnamon and coffee fills the room.

Xxx

**Anne**

Upon entering the study, I find Felix with his face buried, sitting on the couch.

“Oh,” I say, unintelligently, “hey. I thought you were researching, not…” I gesture vaguely, “brooding.”

He sighs, but doesn’t budge, choosing to mumble through his hands instead:

“Please forgive me, that was rather ill-mannered.” He sighs, “my temper always gets the best of me. got me expelled, disinherited…and now I’ve made a fool of myself in front of you.”

“Hey,” I shrug, “I literally yelled at you last week. We can both be temperamental.”

He only huffs, lowering his hands, and I frown.

Even after all this time we’ve spent together, I feel like Felix is still a tightly woven mystery. I’m not sure if I can do anything but keep him company, though I’m unsure if that’s even what he wants.

…I decide to chance it.

I take a step forward the couch, but my first mistake is thinking that despite it’s old look, it would be sturdy enough for both of us. When I sit down on it, the center sinks with a groan, and the cushion nearly folds in two….

…sending Felix crashing into me. Our shoulders knock together before he catches himself, the contact sending lightning sparking through my body.

“Fuck—” I hiss, “Sorry! I thought it’d hold…” I cringe.

He looks extremely rattled as he clutches the arm of the couch. Still, he nods.

“N-No harm done,” he stutters. His cheeks look slightly flushed, if I squint.

Gingerly, we adjust so that it’s more balanced. He crosses his leg over the other. Even though the issue is solved, he’s determined to take up as little space as possible. For a while, we sit in the now awkward air—Felix staring at the fire while I admire him…

Admire? I meant—I meant look at him.

Yeah, that.

Right.

“So—” I start, but realize too late that I have nothing to say.

Felix regards me, “Hm?”

Fuck. I say the first thing that springs to mind.

Considering how much time I spend admiring him, maybe it’s no surprise that the first thing I thought to do was compliment him:

“I just love your…”

There was so much I could say, but as my eyes drift to where a bird skull rests on his collar bone, I can’t even fake my affection as I speak:

“Your necklace,” I smile, “it’s really cool.”

He reflexively touches it, the action followed by a smile so fleeting I nearly miss it.

“This old thing?” he asks, brushing off his smile.

“Yeah,” I nod, “it’s something very…on brand. I don’t think I’d recognize you without it.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes, “come now.”

“I’m serious!” I laugh, “it’s true!”

He regards me as if I’ve just spoken a different language. Well, who knows. Maybe I slipped into german…

“Thank you,” he says, blushing slightly, “I ah…made it myself.”

“Really?” I blink. “How’d it die?”

He shrugs, not missing a beat, “Natural causes I suspect,” a smile sneaks it’s way onto his lips, and my heart leaps at the gentle sight as he speaks: “I was quite fond of this crow, and seeing as how I practice taxidermy…” he chuckles, “It seemed like a fitting tribute.”

I nearly melt. I may be the only person in the galaxy who finds _taxidermy_ endearing.

When our eyes meet, his are filled with such a gentle softness, my heart stops. My stomach flutters with nerves, and I reluctantly groan.

**Felix**

“Sorry,” Anne throws her head back, and I turn to look at her, “I can’t keep up the small talk. I just thought—thought you needed a distraction or company. You looked kind of alone.”

I frown, drawing in a sharp breath and crossing my arms.

“Is that how it is?” I huff, “do I seem so lonely to you?”

She opens her mouth to respond, and in that moment, she looked apologetic, but the look is quickly replaced by an expression between worry and judgement.

“If I’m being honest?” she draws up her shoulders, averting her gaze, “Yeah. A little.”

I press my lips together, and for a moment, I need to gather my thoughts.

After a minute or so, I speak again:

“I spent the last several years in isolation and, to tell the truth, it was a relief.”

I know Anne has never spent a day in complete isolation—either via the company of people, or music. I know she doesn’t like complete loneliness, so I wonder slightly how my words make her feel.

“not having to put up with the expectations of others. The inevitable disappointment.” I close my eyes, “I find dealing with people utterly exhausting. I don’t need anyone. I’m perfectly content on my own.”

She regards me for a moment, lips pursed as she looks at me.

“Felix…” she sighs, finally.

I look at her again, and unwillingly, I feel myself soften. Her expression is laden with sadness, and concern, brown eyes shining in the low firelight. Her red hair looks browner now, currently pulled into a ponytail.

…I realize that she may think I dislike her company, and I suddenly have to urge to affirm the opposite to be true.

“That—That’s not to say I dislike you,” I stutter, “or—or our time together!” I stutter again, my thoughts rushing. “You…ah, you can…you can stay. I suppose.” I turn my gaze away, feeling my face burn and knowing myself well enough to know looking at her would only worsen it.

I find myself scooting closer to her, though.

“If you ever need space,” she says, a clear warmth to her voice as I turn to meet her gaze, “I get it. I do too. But…” she smiles, “I like spending time with you too.”

“Oh?” I hum, then find my face burning once more as I purse my lips, turning away, “That’s, well. er. Interesting…”

I bite my lip, fiddling with my necklace.

As silence settles between us, it feels less awkward than before—back to the comfortable quiet we are used to.

Finally I speak up.

“Thank you,” I say, and her face turns to regard me, “for having my back out there. Necromancy is very misunderstood.” I sigh, eyes closing, “people have narrow minded views, it’s no wonder our knowledge of magic is so limited.”

“They do,” she nods, then tilts her head, “has it always been this way?”

I shake my head, “my father came from a country call Vela. Across the glass sea to the west. There is no place in the whole world quite like it. For thousands of years it was an inhospitable, haunted wasteland. That is, until one woman—Ammara Nayyar—bound a god and in doing so, bent the heavens to her will.” I smile, “She created a paradise for man. Naar Vilar, a diamond in the desert, built and run entirely by magic.”

When I glance up, she’s smiling at me—earnest and bright—with a look in her eyes I can’t explain, as her head rests in her hand.

“Your face lit up,” she says, and I feel my cheeks burn, “you like the history of magic?”

I gulp, face still feeling very warm. “I—of necromancy, yes. It is…it is so little known, it is a miracle we even know this…”

“I see,” she hums, “but…hm. Did that really happen? Or was it just a legend?”

I smirk, appreciating the way she questions history—for I know for myself that what the majority say happened is not always accurate—“it is historical fact,” I say, “though somewhat embellished.” I hold up my finger, “for starters, there are no gods, simply spirits grown large on a diet of magic.”

Her brows furrow, and from experience, I know she needs a moment to process what I’ve said. To be honest, it is cute to watch her focus—sometimes her lips just purse to accompany furrowed brows, other times she sticks her tongue out. It’s incredibly endearing.

As I reign my thoughts in and return to the present, her eyes widen, brows shooting to her hairline. 

“Wait…was she…a necromancer?”

I grin, incredibly proud of her.

“one of the most well known in history, yes.”

“What!!” she gasps, grin wide, jumping up only to land back on her knees, “Really!? That’s so cool!”

I find myself laughing, her excitement infectious.

“my entire culture, and my ancestors, owe their life to one necromancer,” I explain.

She deflates, the reality sinking in. “I see. Figures things are a lot more complicated than just simple prejudice.”

I nod. “they always are.”

She groans, “don’t I know it.”

I pick at my trousers, “thank you for being so patient with me and my…moods.”

I hear the smile in her voice as she nudges me with a shoulder.

“Hey, it’s only fair for you putting up with mine.” She grins, “though I appreciate the self awareness.”

I force a smile, then frown.

I nod, “I’m afraid, I have also kept many factors…from you, so to say. I have not been the most forthcoming, and—”

Just then, I notice my hand inch along the arm of the couch.

“Oh no,” I breathe, right before my hand pulls me off the couch, to the desk.

“What!?” Anne exclaims, following quickly, depositing the box on the table, “What’s happening?!”

My hand picks up a quill and begins writing, disregarding if it writes on wood or paper.

“do not be alarmed,” I sigh, more annoyed than frightened, “this will pass shortly.” I sigh again, “it seems Escell has something urgent to say to me.”

And not long after, it passes. My hand finishes with a flourish, and I collapse in a chair, already knowing what the message says.

“Felix, return home at once,” Anne reads, “you know where to find me. and do not burn my missives. Yours, E.”

She frowns. “What the fuck?” she turns to me, her expression oozing with discomfort, disgust and disbelief as she points at the note, “ _That’s_ from Escell!?”

She seems infuriated, and while I share her obvious discontent for Escell, I am a little surprised.

It feels…nice, to know she is mad on my behalf.

**Anne**

My blood boils at the implications of the last 5 minutes.

Escell has essentially magically branded his _son_ , to the point where he knows he burned the letter, and can control said son’s _hand_ —if not more.

Felix is sitting in a chair, seeming exhausted, and of all things _surprised_ at my apparent rage.

What else has he done to him in the past?

“Apparently he wishes to speak with me,” he grumbles, “urgently.”

I click my tongue, anger still boiling under my skin as I cross my arms, “Apparently.” I purse my lips, “then…what about Celena?”

“And you,” he says with a nod, but I ignore it, “but if you thought a necromancer were threatening, wait until you’ve met my father.”

Felix rarely talks about his family, and I can kinda get why, now.

He sighs, slowly standing. “You’d best rest,” his voice is gentle, all hints of venom gone, now replaced with exhaustion, “we leave tomorrow morning.”

He regards me with a look I can’t decipher, and I nod. His lips twitch, but before I can dwell on it he’s moved on to examine the crest on the back of his hand. It was barely noticeable before—so much so that I barely took note of it—but it is now angry and red, like when you cut yourself slightly.

“Right then,” he sighs, dropping his hand as he takes his bag, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” I nod, “goodnight, Felix.”

He regards me briefly, our gazes locking, before he manages to tear himself out of the study. I sigh, gaze dropping to the desk once he’s gone. The note glares at me, written on paper and wood, and I scowl.

I lean on the desk and point a finger at the words, “Fuck you.”

Then there’s a knock at the door.

“Yes?” I call.

Anisa opens the door, sheepish, “Hey, Felix just told us what happened,” she frowns, “you’re going to meet Escell with him tomorrow.”

I nod, “Yeah. Any advice?”

She bites her lip, and crosses the room, rummaging in her pocket for something. Then she pulls out the hilt of…something. It’s a dark red leather with golden embellishments, and I can feel magic webbed into it.

“This is a quarterstaff,” Anisa explains, handing it to me, “if you cast even a crumb of magic on it, it will unfurl. Even Sage can use it, so it should work for you.” I take the staff with a nod.

“Thanks.” I can’t tell if this is for defense against Escell, or the Spirit Thief.

Anisa’s hands rest on my shoulders, her gaze locked with mine.

“Be careful,” she says, “Escell he’s…powerful. But you cannot trust him.”

My throat tightens, but I force myself to swallow, and nod.

“I’m always careful,” I say with a weak smile, in an attempt to lighten her mood.

Anisa smiles, “I know. Keep an eye on Felix…don’t let him get himself killed.”

I chuckle, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t. we wouldn’t want to have to hold him a funeral.”

She quirks a brow, her lips quirked, “I know _you_ certainly wouldn’t.”

I frown as Anisa waves and wishes me goodnight before the door closes, leaving me alone once more.

_What_?


	10. Chapter 10

**Anne**

The next morning Felix and I meet outside the barracks. I adjust my bag over my shoulder as I step out the front door, and approach Felix where he stands by the edge of the street.

He sees me as I approach, and I smile in greeting. He also cracks a smile.

“Good morning, Anne,” he says, and I can’t help but grin more. “Are you all ready to leave?”

“Morning! Yup! All packed and ready to go.”

He nods, “then we should get moving.” He turns to lead the way and I fall in line beside him. For a while, we walk in comfortable silence. Out of seemingly nowhere, I remember I never told him about my feat of magic last night.

“Oh, I just remembered,” Felix perks up and I grin, “I was able to cast magic last night!I cast a spell when Celena attacked me, and I did it again in the study after you left.”

Felix smiles, and it’s enough to have my heart soaring even as he speaks, “That’s perfect. Then we can begin with actual magic lessons this evening.”

I grin, nodding. “I can’t wait!”

He smirks, “I told you you could do it.”

I freeze in my tracks, and he leisurely keeps walking as my lips form and ‘o’.

“Hey,” I mumble, then exclaim, jogging after him, “Hey! Wait for me!”

xxx

A short while later, we are climbing the stairs of the very ruins Felix and I had met in a few weeks ago.

“I felt we ought to revisit this place ere we depart,” Felix explains as he comes to a stop, then spins on his heel to face me. “it felt…suitable. A little poetic. And…well…” he licks his lips nervously, “…I am the one who stranded you here…and now I am dragging you to meet my father, of all people,” he fixes me with a look of determination that sends my heart to my knees, “the next time we return here will be the day you return to your realm, and our paths diverge.” He offers me a gentle smile, “No matter what happens, I promise I will see you home.”

My heart stutters a little.

I don’t know him that well, nor this world, but every fiber of my being is begging to stay. Every part of me longs to stay in Astraea—

To stay with _Felix_.

I force a smile and shrug, “Thanks, but I’m in no rush to go home. I like it here.” I watch Felix’s eyes widen in surprise, but it’s short lived, as he smirks. I cross my arms, adding: “Besides, a little adventure never hurt anyone.”

“Ha!” he scoffs, “I beg to differ.”

I find myself giggling.

“in all seriousness,” I say, a hand on his shoulder, “don’t beat yourself up about my being here. I don’t mind. I feel very at home here.” My hand falls away.

He hums, “I see.” He nods slightly, though I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

He turns his back to me and snaps, and a portal flickers into existence before him. I smile crookedly, a witty remark on the tip of my tongue.

“Do you ever use your legs to get anywhere?”

He turns his head towards me and frowns, crossing his arms with a sniff as we move towards each other. He huffs, “I’d sooner fling myself cross the void than walk all the way to bleeding Porrima. It’s easily a weeklong journey,” He throws his hair over his shoulder with a jerk of his head, “besides, we are the perfect target for ruffians.”

“Oh?” I ask, crossing my arms and cocking my hip to the side. He nods with a satisfied smirk.

“Naturally. I look moneyed and you…” he makes a show of looking me up and down, but I catch his slight blush. He meets my gaze, smirk widening, “look wide-eyed and lost. Perfect prey if I say so myself.”

I laugh, nodding with my hands on my hips, “alright alright, you proved your point.”

I hum, thinking that I wouldn’t mind traveling across the country with Felix for a week.

“You sure this one’s safe?” I joke, quirking my brow, “last time I almost crushed Anisa.”

I mean it in a teasing manner, but Felix interprets it as apprehension as he frowns.

“Would it make you feel better if I held your hand?” he holds out a hand, then flushes, running the other hand over his neck, “not that it matters to me, of course!”

I feel my cheeks warming, and though I’m not frightened, I find myself yearning to touch him for longer than just a second—I find myself wanting to hold his hand, for seemingly no reason.

_You know there’s a reason._

I shoo the voice in my head as I take his hand, “Thanks.”

He makes a strangled sound, and I swallow down a chuckle. He clears his throat.

“Now then, shall we?”

I nod, “Lead the way, magic man.”

He rolls his eyes, a smile on his lips along with the blush coating his cheeks and ears, and he’s undeniably cute.

He tugs me through the portal, and—

I fall.

I yelp as I flail through the air, before I make contact with something as I land—

“Ugh…”

Sorry, someone.

I groan as I sit up, making Felix—who I apparently landed on—hiss.

He lays sprawled out beneath me, and for a second, I find myself rooted to the spot, stunned.

“Anne?” he groans, finally seeming to catch his breath, and it finally registers that I’m _straddling_ him.

My face burns.

“Shit,” I hiss, “Sorry!” I rush to scramble off him as fast as possible, which results in me clumsily rolling to the side then standing up—and he still makes a strangled noise when I do. I run my hands through my hair, biting my lip as I try not to think too hard about that whole situation.

“Thank…thank you,” he mutters.

As he gets up I take a look around. The green and blue landscape paints a lush forest and a sparkling lake. By looking around I can spot a tower through the greenery.

A rustle beside me draws my attention, and I manage to catch sight of Felix shake his head to get the dirt out, then pick twigs out of his hair. There’s one stuck in the back of his hair.

“Um,” I mutter, and he turns to look at me, and I motion to the back of my head, “you…you missed one.”

He huffs, reaching blindly for the twig—

And missing completely.

“Did I get it?” he asks.

“No,” I say, and he grumbles, continuing to try to get it, and I cringe at his fruitless attempts. “No—left, higher, no—” I groan, “this is stupid, let me—” I don’t wait for a response before putting my hand on his shoulder and moving behind him to remove the twig. I pick it out and toss it to the side, promptly stepping away from him.

Felix spins on his heel to look at me. He runs a hand through the back of his hair, face flushed as he mutters: “Thank….Thank you.”

I nod, “No problem.”

And just like that, an awkwardly tense silence stretches between us.

I lick my lips.

“So much for your new and improved portal,” I deadpan, hoping to distract from the awkward atmosphere. 

“I apologize,” he says, flushing deeper, “I was distracted.”

I push down the urge to say ‘ah yes, because I’m so distracting~’. As I do, I notice him adjusting his sleeves—and see the branding.

“Can’t you cast a healing spell on it?” I ask, pointing at the mark.

He blinks, gaze switching from me to the mark, and he sighs.

“And risk my bones shifting or turning into chittering spiders?” he scoffs. I snort.

“What the hell—”

“I am afraid,” he sighs, “I have no talent for the curative arts.”

“Ahhhh,” I nod with a long exhale, “I get it. You’re a damage dealer, not a healer.”

He flushes again, and it’s impossibly endearing. He pouts.

I hum, tapping my chin with my forefinger, “Hum. In that case, maybe I could learn to heal.”

The blush on his face dissipates, replaced by a troubled expression as he fumbles with his necklace.

“We should get moving,” he mumbles, pushing past me and leading the way through a small path in the forest.

I frown. Did I say the wrong thing?

“So,” I hum, hands behind my back as I follow him, “Where are we? Escell doesn’t live around here, in the middle of nowhere, does he?”

Felix stops, shakes his head, “Absolutely not.”

“Then where are we?”

He flashes me an enigmatic smile that has my pulse threatening to burst. He pushes a branch to the side, revealing…

A fortress.

It stands in the middle of a moat, mottled with age and blanketed in ivy, though it’s clear it’s not been abandoned long, as little of it lies in ruin. It’s blanketed in shadows and it feels intimidating, in a way. At the same time, I feel drawn to it. 

Felix smiles, sweeping his arm in a large gesture towards the fortress.

“Welcome to Fathom Tower,” he grins, “once home to the Starsworn.”

A strong wind shakes a willow leaning on the wall of Fathom Tower, and a flock of birds take flight.

“It’s…stunning,” I gape, “And ominous.”

“Is that, ah,” he hums, “a good thing?”

I meet his gaze with a grin. He smiles, relief sparkling in stormy gray eyes.

“I love old buildings,” I sigh. I shrug, “dunno why, maybe it’s the story teller in me who loved implied stories,” I grin. I turn to look at the structure and hum as I tilt my head. “is it haunted or something?”

I mean it jokingly, and Felix seems to catch on when I quirk a brow and bite my lip to hide my grin. He huffs, amused.

“Absolutely not,” he shakes his head, “the only thing that is in the fortress are the countless arcane artifacts and texts that reside here.”

At the mention of magical artifacts and more books, I perk up, “What? Here?”

He nods, “the derelict façade deters would be thieves and meddlesome adventurers.”

I quirk a brow, “Does it?” I shrug, “I dunno, if I was looking for adventure,” I snap my fingers then point at the structure, “that’d be where I’d go.”

He rolls his eyes, “well, we couldn’t call it Ancient Artifact Depot or Castle-come-hither-theres-candy,” he huffs, “having it present like so,” he gestures to it, “was as good as we could do.”

I smirk, ready for a joke again—“is there candy?”

He looks at me with a deadpan look, but I see his lip twitch. He rolls his eyes regardless, turning to lead the way.

I smile at him as he goes, watching his back retreat towards the tower.

…then I realize he’s gotten kind of far.

“Hey wait!” I gasp, then start to laugh, “you didn’t answer me! Hehe, Felix! Is there candy!”

“None for you!” he retorts, but I hear the smile in his voice as his pace quickens.

…and I start running.

And a wild chase ensues.

It takes us through the winding halls of Fathom Tower—and this is the fastest I’ve seen Felix, and the loudest I’ve heard him laugh.

I can tell he really was trained as a knight, as his speed and stamina far outdo mine.

_…Interesting_.

By the time I catch up to him, he’s leaning on the wall outside a room, panting slightly. Meanwhile I’m gasping, struggling to get some air.

“Heh,” he chuckles, “too fast for you, dear barista?”

“Yes!” I gasp, my hands on my knees, “I’m not some trained knight! I can’t run that fast.”

He chuckles, “What,” when I look up he has a sultry look on his face, “already out of stamina?”

I flush at the implication, but he’s already moved on to undo the wards on the door.

_I didn’t know he made jokes like that-_

The door swings open, interrupting my thoughts.

The door had been hiding a study, with bookcases lining the walls, a big desk with a fancy chair opposite the door, and a yellow couch from which emanates a mysterious energy. The room is enchanting, an unmistakably “Felix” vibe about the place.

Felix walks inside, dragging a finger along a shelf and frowning at the collected dust.

“What is this place?” I ask, wandering into the study, turning as I take in all the books. I spot a small kitchen nestled into the corner next to the door.

“This is my workshop, I keep a personal collection of arcane artifacts and—”

He freezes suddenly, drawing my attention.

“Oh no,” he breathes.

I glance around in search of what has him so on edge, but frown when I don’t see anything. 

“What is it?” I ask.

He raises a finger to his lips, stormy eyes glancing at me, and I spend too long of a second looking at his pursed lips and long lashes.

Then he glances away, and I follow his line of sight.

It’s…

“A cat?”

It blinks at Felix, then me.

It has no tail.

Then it bounds towards me, and Felix hisses—“Watch out!”

But his warning is late, and it rubs against my leg, purring loudly. I stare at the cat, then at Felix. I point at the cat with a smirk, “is this your cat?”

“D-don’t move a muscle!” he says before I even reach down to pet it.

I frown, hands raised next to my face, “o-kay.”

“That is no simple house cat. Do not let her soft fur and blank expression deceive you!” he warns. I look down at her, and she sticks her tongue out at me as Felix speaks, “Within that seemingly innocent pet hides an ancient, diabolical fiend, summoned from the deepest hells.”

I take a moment to look at Felix—who is staring at the cat as if watching a spider to make sure it doesn’t move before someone comes to kill it—then to the cat—who rubs her face on my ankles with a rumbling purr.

“Does she have a name?” I ask. He frowns, relaxing somewhat.

“I dare not utter the name of the beast that inhabits her but…” he closes his eyes, “when she lived, my Papa called her Stella.”

I assume that Felix means someone else besides Escell, though I can’t tell if it’s a second dad or a grandparent.

“You stuffed a demon’s soul into the body of your dead cat?” I ask, visibly amused.

He crosses his arms, looking away, “Perhaps I did.” He shakes his head, “I was very young when she died, I had little attachment to her. otherwise I wouldn’t have.” 

I chuckle to myself, having no trouble believing him, and feeling entirely compelled to pet her.

Before he can argue, I quickly drop down to pet her back. she gives a languid meow.

“Anne!” he gasps, then relaxes, brows furrowed, “I see, she must have you under some sort of compulsion.”

I roll my eyes, mentally accusing him of being dramatic, though I know in my heart that I’m the same way.

I spend a few minutes petting her, then scoop her up. I show the gesture off with a grin, but when I look at him—

He’s pouting, glaring at Stella. His entire posture _screams_ jealousy. 

_What is he jealous of? Stella?_

I ignore the question, “Don’t you want to pet her? she’s _so_ soft,” I drawl. I lean forward, beaming up at him from under my bangs. 

He scowls, “Absolutely not!” he meets my gaze with furrowed brows, “I dare say that you wouldn’t either, had you seen the things she’s done, as I have. I’ve heard her speak in tongues!”

_A talking cat?_

_He probably means the godling._

_…she’s real cute though._

“Why do you have a cat in your abandoned workshop anyway?”

He crosses his arms, expression relaxing.

“I was going to explain before you insisted on petting her.” He pats down his vest, “some years ago I found myself in need of security.”

“So you got a cat,” I say with a smirk.

He huffs, “ _No_ , I trapped a godling in a cat’s body. She requires neither sustenance nor sleep. She lives only to protect my belongings.” 

Now that he says it outright…

“That’s…impressive,” I nod, eyes wide, then I smile at him, “and really cool!”

He flushes, and averts his gaze.

“I…thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I hum.

A silence settles between us, and he begins to look around the room. I shift Stella in my arms.

Then I get an idea.

And I slowly approach Felix.

“What are you doing?” he asks, a hint of panic in his voice and expression as he backs up a little. “You…you should lower her now…”

“if you hold her, I will.”

His eyes widen, clearly not expecting me to bargain. He frowns.

“you will not relent, will you?” he asks.

I shrug, “people have told me I’m surprisingly stubborn.”

He huffs, gesturing for me to hand her over, “somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

I bite my lip at the remark, the implication that he already knows me that well making my heart swell.

And then Felix is holding Stella, awkward as can be, and entirely way too endearingly, considering the situation.

He sighs.

“Are you satisfied?”

I grin, “Very.”

His features soften, a small smile on his lips. He gazes down to Stella and pauses.

“Perhaps,” he says quietly, “this is not so bad.”

He reaches to pet her, but she hisses, squirming in his grasp. Obviously surprised, he flinches, letting her drop to the floor in the process.

I watch her climb onto the couch and curl into a ball there.

“I can’t believe your fancy security system is a cat,” I smile as I speak, crossing my arms.

“You best not underestimate her, dear Barista,” he says, though his voice is gentle as he leans on the couch, “she is more dangerous than you can imagine.”

The smirk he gives, accompanied by the way he leans against the couch, his arms crossed, has my heart skipping a beat.

I ignore it.

I hum, nodding, “I trust you.”

He freezes at the comment, smile dropping, then he flushes.

“That—” he clears his throat, glaring at the floor, “That being said. Her wakeful state bodes ill.” He clears his throat, “She would only be active if someone tried to enter.”

I frown, “so someone was here.”

Our gazes lock as he nods, “Yes.”

I smirk, a joke forming on my tongue. “Maybe it was Sage, or Anisa…or, a cat _burglar_?”

I lean towards him, wiggling my brows with a fingergun under my chin. From my distance I can see his lip twitch as he resists the urge to smile. He glances away, the attempt failing as he speaks.

“No it—it had—” he shakes his head, the amusement vanishing, “it had to be some enemy spellcaster. A powerful mage…”

My heart sinks, “like…Escell?”

He sighs, shoulders drooping, “it is a possibility.”

“What use would he have of any of your things?”

He sighs, shrugging, “a bargaining chip for getting me to listen. Perhaps actually to use them. I cannot tell you, for I haven’t a clue.”

I have no doubt in my mind that he would steal his book—after seeing him possess Felix’s hand? He’s capable and it’s probable.

“is anything missing?” I ask.

He shakes his head, “whoever tried, they failed to find what they came for.”

I squint at nothing, _if it had been Escell, he would have succeeded. Did we interrupt whoever was here?_

“Escell would do anything to get his hands on many things in this room,” he explains, “along with this.”

Felix pulls out an ornate key from his pocket—and it draws my gaze instantly.

“I want you to have it,” he says, and I blink, and it’s suddenly in my hand.

“heavy,” I whisper, weighing it in my palm.

“that key is one of my finest creations,” he explains, drawing my attention to his face, where I spot a smirk, “insert it into any door, and you will be teleported here.”

I feel another joke building on my lips.

“Wow, Felix, I’m flattered, but don’t you think this is a bit soon?” I grin obviously, conveying that it’s a joke, but he flushes all the same, spluttering to explain.

“What—What!? I didn’t mean to imply—” I chuckle, and he scowls, “all I mean to say—to say is that, I’ve no need of a key, and, and well—well,” he swallows, “I merely thought you should have the freedom to come and go as you like.”

My laughter abruptly dies in my throat and I blink, a little surprised. I bite my lip as I suck in a breath. I slowly exhale, my expression must look downright awed. I wasn’t expecting to receive the key to…his home, basically.

_His personal space._

It’s no secret Felix hasn’t been with Escell for awhile, and I think it’s safe to assume he’s been hiding out here for the last few years. It feels…personal. The space screams Felix Escellun, and I feel like an intruder—

Yet oddly at home.

I feel _at home_ with Felix.

“Thank you,” I say, holding the key to my chest, smiling. “I was just teasing, you know.”

He grumbles, “I do.” He huffs a little, “I just wasn’t expecting such a joke.”

“Well you took me off guard earlier with your joke,” I shrug, “so might as well take you off guard with mine.”

I shrug, slipping the key into my pocket. Felix stands there, staring at nothing, seeming a little lost in thought.

**Felix**

As Anne slips the key into her pocket, my thoughts drift.

It is so odd how quickly we’ve become this comfortable with each other. How quickly it feels normal for her to be here—

Even though it’s very much not normal. Her being in Astraea, in my workshop? Neither should have happened, if I did the spell correctly.

Which I did, without a doubt.

I’ve wondered for days how the spell—a spell to summon one’s soulmate—would summon _Anne_.

If I really did do it correctly….

“You don’t want your dad getting in,” Anne says, and nods, “makes sense.” Her words draw me back to reality, and I hum.

I nod, “that is however not all,” I pat the couch I am leaning against, “within this couch I’ve hidden a most dangerous book: the Grimoire Lemegeton. Bound in human skin, each page inscribed in blood, it was long thought destroyed…”

Her eyes widen. “…yet you have it.”

I smirk, pride swelling in my chest, “indeed.”

She pauses, seemingly at war with herself with what she thinks of said book. Then she peers to the side.

“Can I see it?”

I flush, a hand scratching the back of my neck. “I’d love to show you but…” I bite my lip, “it is a spot Stella loves to rest upon and she gets…cranky when it is moved.”

She smiles, bordering on a grin. I feel like she’s about to tease me, and I tense in anticipation…

“That’s fair,” she shrugs, and my shoulders relax. “…do you think Escell was the spirit thief? Or behind it?”

“it’s possible he simply came here to get my attention,” I explain, “Whatever the case, something is amiss, and I intend to get to the bottom of it.” a smirk forms on my lips.

I push off the couch, “it is time we paid my father a visit.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Felix**

Anne standing in my workshop is a thing I anticipated, albeit not so soon after meeting her. Nor did I expect to feel so…at ease with her there. Or in general.

Nor did I forsee her taking a liking to Stella. Or to feel jealous of a damn godling-holding-cat.

When we arrive in Porrima, before the Archmage’s castle, I speak up.

“The castle of Porrima, practically my second home growing up.”

Then I look to Anne…

…finding her awestruck, gaping at the towering structure.

I can’t help the snort that bubbles up within me, nor the amused expression on my face.

“You’ve seen magical impossibilities,” I laugh, “forbidden necromantic arts, and this is what has you at a loss for words?”

“That’s not fair!” she whines, turning to face me, “it’s huge! And the architecture is—it’s beautiful!” she folds her arms, “you gotta admit it’s impressive.” 

I frown, “I’ve never been fond of this place, crawling with politicians.”

Her expression falls. “Right. I figured you wouldn’t.” She shrugs, “I’m not a huge fan of politics either.” She smiles sideways at me, “yet another thing we have in common, then.” I can’t help but smile, nodding.

I sigh, my smile dropping, “Let’s hurry and get this over with,” I smirk then, “I want to see how your impression of Escell compares to the real thing.”

She huffs, following me with long strides, “doubt it does, but sure. Let’s go.”

And just like that we are let through the gates, and I lead her through winding halls to my father’s office. We pass by a courtyard filled with people who crowd together to gossip. 

As we pass—our footing surprisingly in synch, considering our differing heights—I pick up on people watching us, then whispering to their companions.

Anne seems to notice as well, as she slows down a bit, forcing me to as well, and inching to stand in my shadow.

My heart flutters at the trust she seems to have in me.

“Why are so many people staring?” she whispers, her breath warm on my ear. I suppress a shiver.

I click my tongue, “insufferable gossips, the lot of them.” I look up at her, “Escell’s estranged son returns to visit. The entire town will be talking of it before sundown.” She frowns. She opens her mouth to speak, but the sound of a nearby gossip interrupts her:

“Is that his girlfriend—”

The comment makes me turn to give the person who said it a withering glare, and he drops his papers. My cheeks burn at their assumption, and when I chance a glance at Anne, she seems equally flustered.

“Um,” Anne mumbles, “What exactly does Escell _do_? In the game he was just a battle mage champion…”

I nod, gaze focused on the floor ahead, “he is the Archmage of Porrima. He oversees all magic affairs, sits on the governing council…” I sigh, “politics.”

“Sounds powerful,” she winces, and I nod.

“He is only the most powerful mage in all of Porrima.” I deadpan. Then I add, “Whoop-de-doo.”

She gives me an expression that—on anyone else—would have looked like pity, but on her…

I know by proxy of knowing her, that it is empathy, compassion.

_Concern_ for me.

It makes my heart stutter in my chest.

I slow to a stop in front of an ornate door. I inhale deeply.

“Are you nervous?” she asks. I huff. It is not a real question, just one to fill the air between us. I know she can tell I am nervous.

“of course not,” I roll my eyes, “I have only not seen my father since…oh, since before joining the Starsworn.” I sigh, “I renounced my family, declared I was no longer a member of house Anguis, and left.”

She frowns, disgust oozing from her stance as she crosses her arms, furrowing her brows, “doesn’t seem like he agrees.”

“No,” I grumble, “it does not.” I meet her gaze, “Allow me to do the talking,” her head turns to me, “my father is a serpent with a honeyed tongue. Pay no mind to anything he says.”

She nods, “I’ve dealt with serpents before,” she smiles, a challenge sparkling in brown eyes, “I’m not scared.”

I huff, smirking, relaxing, if only for a moment, “You should be.”

Then I turn to the door, shoulders tensing as I brace myself.

I swing the doors open, startling the collection of mages within the office. The guests throw my father a questioning look. For a moment, his demeanor is unreadable, before he smiles slightly and raps his ring on the table, signaling their dismissal. They do as they are told, and I defiantly cross my arms and raise my chin as they file past.

Anne glances after them, but quickly redirects her attention to Escell. She straightens her back and frowns, apparently incapable of even pretending to be disinterested.

She stops wringing her hands, instead folding them behind her back. I smile inwardly.

I move to speak, “Father—”

He raises a hand, silencing me, as he begins to scribble on his parchment. A few moments pass. Eventually my impatience gets the better of me.

“Come now, Father,” I roll my eyes, “Surely you did not summon me so I may watch you work.” I scoff, “Why puppet me? How do I still have this blighted insignia? What do you _want_!?”

I can hear my own voice waver, and it sounds hollow to myself without my smug tone. Anne glances sideways at me, brows furrowed in concern. It hurts to ignore her.

“Are you finished?” he asks. Anne and I both tense. “Here for less than an hour and already making demands,” he clicks his tongue, shaking his head, “you have not changed, Felix.”

I grit my teeth, hoping dearly that that is not true. That years of absence from this blighted house have changed nothing—haven’t changed me for the better.

“Still impatient, still wearing all black,” he smirks, cruel and cold enough to make Anne stiffen even more beside me, “my boy, mourning is meant to be a period, not a lifestyle.”

I flinch, and I can feel the way Anne bristles beside me, jaw clenching. Knowing her, I assume she wants to comment on his own color choice.

“As for your insignia, try as you may, but you cannot simply walk away from family.”

This time I hear the crunch of leather as Anne’s grip on her bracer tightens. When I risk a glance, her jaw is clenched so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if she chipped a tooth.

He stands, and I curl in on myself, and mutter, “…but I had it removed.”

He chuckles darkly, “I own every spellbreaker in this city,” he looks down his nose at me, “none would dare cross me.”

He levels me with a cool glare—

Then my heart leaps into my throat with anxiety as he addresses Anne. If looks could kill, I fear we may be dead already, but—

She matches his glare with an equally chilly one. I suck in a breath at the sight.

He smiles, “I do not believe we have met.”

She crosses her arms, and only two words leave her lips.

“I’m Anne.”

Her apparent defiance seems to amuse him, and he smirks even wider.

“it is a pleasure to meet you, Anne.”

I huff, wanting to draw his attention from her quickly.

“Why have you summoned me here?” I ask, then smirk, “have you perhaps taken a sudden interest in necromancy?”

He sits back in his chair, stroking his chin.

“In a manner,” he steeples his fingers, “ever since the blood moon, a rouge necromancer has run amok, stealing spirits left and right. “

Anne and I share a fleeting look.

_The thief from Mournfall._

I smirk, “Then it is my expertise you seek. I knew the day would come when you would call upon my knowledge.”

Escell sighs, exasperated.

“No, you foolish boy,” he rolls his eyes, then glares, “I called you to ascertain your innocence. I see now you lack the wit to perform such feats, despite your appalling taste in magic. “

My hands shake—from anger, embarrassment or…something else, I can’t tell—and I ball them to fists in an attempt to will them to stop.

“I have allowed you to lick your wounds for long enough,” he continues, “You will come home for the duration of this investigation, hand over any necromantic artifacts in your possession, and cease this childish tantrum.” An evil smirk crosses his features. “it’s time you took your rightful place in house Anguis.”

As he finishes his speech, something in me snaps, and my temper—once more—gets the better of me:

“How—How dare you!?” I question, though we all know the answer. I feel rage boiling within me as my jaw clenches and I ball my hands to fists again. My shoulders shake and I can barely restrain myself.

I’m about to burst, rage building, when it all vanishes—

Replaced by surprise as Anne speaks up.

“That’s not fair,” she growls, drawing my gaze. I can see now the anger burning in her eyes, usually warm and welcoming, now alight with a barely contained _rage_. Her jaw is set tightly, fists clenched.

“You have no right to tell Felix what to do,” she says, voice surprisingly steady and confident. There is little room for discussion in her tone, “He doesn’t owe you a damn thing, and he didn’t come all this _fucking_ way just for you to insult him.”

She glares at Escell, who regards her silently, expression unreadable. Then he lets out a humorless laugh. Anne only glares further.

“I only offer shelter from the coming storm,” he assures. “Whether Felix accepts or not is his decision.”

I refrain from rolling my eyes. That’s a load of bullshit, and from the way Anne glares at him, I get the impression she thinks so too.

“I’m afraid I must decline your offer,” I say, just loud enough for him to hear, “if that is all, we will be leaving.”

“Very well,” he says, “once you cross that threshold I cannot protect you. Should you be formally accused of necromancy, I shall have to recuse myself,” he says. I scoff.

“Am I supposed to be surprised?” my gaze lowers, “When have you protected anything besides your own interest?”

I turn my back to him, and reach for the door handle.

“Felix.”

The sound of my name on his tongue gives me pause.

“your Papa and sister will be returning ere the solstice’s end. They miss you terribly.”

My entire demeanor darkens, and I can tell Anne notices by the worried expression she gives me as I drawl a response, not meeting either of their gazes.

“That’s low, even for you.”

And then we leave. I don’t look back as I lead the way down the hall.

The door closes a few feet behind us, and I finally slow to a stop. Then I bury my face in my hands and make a strangled, angry noise in my throat.

A million thoughts swirl in my head, all of them overwhelming.

And then Anne’s hand is on my shoulder, and the fog clears.

She runs her hand over my shoulder. I lower my hands to cover my mouth, peeking over them sheepishly. She retracts her hand. I miss the warmth immediately. 

“I—I am sorry you had to witness that,” I remove my hands, folding my arms instead, “my father he is…”

„Horrible.“

I blink when i hear her hiss the word. She scowls, clearly not done yet.

“What an arrogant ass! He has no right to treat you like that!” she shakes her head, “and besides! He’s so fucking wrong!”

“He—He is?” I stammer, somewhat at a loss for what to do.

“Yes!” she gasps, meeting my gaze, “You’re not stupid! You’re incredibly smart! And you’re patient! You put up with me! And—” her shoulders relax, her voice lowering as she gazes at the floor. 

“your feelings are valid,” she whispers, “you’re not childish. Your actions are completely understandable.” She purses her lips, “he has no clue about family. Real family are the people you choose to die for, not the ones you’re born with.”

She looks up, at me, and I find myself in awe of her—of her ideals, her passion, all of it. for a moment, I don’t reply, and she flushes.

“Sorry,” she breathes, twiddling with her hair, “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

I smile, finding how quickly her mood has shifted endearing, somehow, “I’m not offended,” she glances up, pausing her fiddling. I fiddle with my necklace as I add: “In fact, I find your bluntness rather…refreshing.”

I duck my eyes, avoiding her gaze as I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear with a sigh.

_I love your candor,_ my mind whispers, _I love how enraged you are at him, I love how curious and smart you are, how observant, how caring, how empathetic, your humor—_

The thoughts, seemingly out of nowhere, threaten to overwhelm me, and I figure they must have been building up for quite some time now.

_Oh no._

I’m in **_love_** with her, aren’t I?

**Anne**

“I find your candor rather refreshing,” he says, blush high on his cheeks. He ducks his eyes, tucking a loose stand of hair behind an ear with a sigh. He pauses for a minute, expression unreadable. Then he takes a deep breath.

“Thank you for being there,” he says, smiling up at me, “I—I am glad you were there.”

He’s earnest, but anxiety chips at his voice. He’s clearly still wound up from the encounter, and I doubt jumping into action would relieve him of that weight.

“Why don’t we take a little break,” I shrug, taking his hand and tugging, “Maybe go on a walk somewhere that’s not,” I gesture vaguely, “here.”

He pulls away, shaking his head, “we must not tarry. There is still much to do.” He begins counting on his fingers, “Leads to investigate, spells to prepare…I should ward the fortress as well!”

“Woah woah woah,” I say, planting a hand on either of his shoulders, “you _need_ to take a break.”

He flushes, a small gasp escaping him as he tenses at the touch. Then his shoulders relax. He shakes his head, “I mustn’t rest until we’ve located the necromancer.”

He doesn’t pull away, though his gaze is faraway. I pull away. He seems to lean towards me to chase my touch—

I shake off the thought. I’m probably just imagining it.

I remain firm in my belief that we can’t move on without blowing off steam.

And so…I take a leap of faith.

“Nope!” I say, popping the ‘p’, “you and I are gonna blow off some steam!~”

Before he can even process what I’ve said, I grab his hand and rush through the halls, heading for the exit.

A few seconds later we are standing outside the castle, the wind tousling our hair. My gaze catches on Felix as the wind brushes it out of his face, and petals whip through the air. 

_He looks stunning, pouting amongst falling petals_.

I swallow down the thought as Felix asks:

“Why have you led me here?”

His arms are crossed, a brow quirked, and is feigns disinterests masterfully, and if I didn’t know him as well as I do now, I’d have shied away from my plans.

But I feel as though I’ve known him my whole life, and so, I proceed.

My lips quirk into a smile, “Aren’t you tired of being nice? Don’t you want to go ape shit?”

“I beg your pardon?”

I turn away, walking a few steps away from him, “back on Earth I was a barista,” I explain, “which means I was working in customer service. We had a lot of entitled folks who claimed to know better than we did, and I got my fair share of creeps trying to flirt with me. Despite that all, we are expected to smile and not get angry.”

There’s a frown in his voice, “how dreadful.”

I laugh, looking over my shoulder, “Yeah,” I fold my hands behind my back, wandering back to Felix, “but bottling up your feelings like that all the time isn’t healthy, so on breaks we’d go out back and yell or laugh or cry or stomp on empty boxes and milk cartons.”

I look at him with a grin, finding him blowing a loose strand of hair out of his eyes with a pout.

“You don’t actually expect me to yell, do you?”

“Scream or laugh!” I back away, spreading my arms, “whatever makes you feel better! Just let it out!”

He glances away, seeming to consider this, before shaking his head.

“I can’t,” he sighs, “It’s—It’s not proper!”

I frown.

“I know I’m not a noble, or of a high social status, no matter in what realm,” I say cautiously, “but…I know that bottling up your feelings isn’t a solution. You’ll just be tired and sad and tense all the time.” I cross my arms, “so enlighten me. How are you ‘supposed’ to deal with it?”

He huffs, “I am Porriman nobility,” he smirks, “we are supposed to drown our sorrows by drinking copious amounts of alcohol.”

“Again!” I exclaim, throwing my arms in the air, “Super duper unhealthy!”

“Or host frivolous, debauched parties to flagrantly display our wealth, and feign prosperity.”

I roll my eyes and groan. He chuckles.

“Thank you for your concern,” he sighs, “but I shall lick my wounds out of sight, thank you.”

He turns to leave, but before he can get too far, I spot a rock on the ground. I drop down and scoop it up, then point in the direction of the wind, cock my arm back and—

“HIIIII-YAAAAH!”

\--throw the rock into the river.

I glance back to Felix excitedly, only to find him standing there, hair a mess in the wind, and a hand engulfed in green flames.

My breath catches.

_He’s beautiful._

_He’s **hot**. _

He hurls it towards the river, but in that moment the wind shifts, depositing it on a patch of flowers, and interrupting my thoughts. 

“Oh, hells!” Felix hisses, and I flinch away.

“Ah—” I bite my lip, running towards him, tugging at his sleeve as I go, “We should go!”

He nods, following me as I run towards the castle. Before we disappear inside, he chances a look at the burnt tulips, smirking as the fire fades and flickers out.

The smirk on his lips has my pulse spiking.

_He should look at me like that._

_What_.

We run back inside, laughing as we go, and as I chance a glance his way, my heart soars.

_I realize that I want to make him laugh all the time._

_…I realize I’d rather stay here, with him, for the rest of my life than go home, even though I have fans waiting for a new video. Not to mention Aya, Zari and Mi-Rae._

_…shit._

_I really don’t wanna leave him._

_…because I love him._

_Fuck._

As we find ourselves in the corridors again, we slow to a stop, laughing and attempting to catch our breath. And I try to brush off the realization I made seconds earlier.

Aside from the occasional glance our way, no one seems to have noticed the fire.

“Feeling better?” I ask, brow quirked and head cocked to the side. I stand on an elevated piece of the floor, leaning on a pillar as I try to calm my racing pulse.

He laughs, then nods, “Much better,” he meets my gaze, cheeks flushed with what I assume is mirth, “Thank you.” he tilts his head slightly, an easy smile on soft lips I desperately want to kiss.

He flushes more, smile falling, “Let us never mention that again.”

I grin, but the expression is erased at the person clearing their throat behind Felix. He spins around to find a messenger of sorts. Felix jumps in surprise.

“We were here this whole time!” he exclaims.

I nearly face palm. The person frowns.

“Um…right. The Archmage requests your audience. Immediately.”

Felix frowns. He turns to me as the messenger begins walking.

“Go,” I nod, “I’ll be waiting. Don’t worry.”

He sighs. “I’ll only be gone a moment.”

He walks off, and I notice he’s walking far quicker than he did alongside me earlier.

…was he slowing down to match my pace?

With that heart-quickening thought, I lean against the wall, closing my eyes to focus on the sounds in the courtyard. Birds sing, the greenery rustles in the wind, and an unseen piano plays.

If I close my eyes, I can imagine my father playing, offering to teach me any moment.

…but I know that won’t happen.

And then a soft giggle tears me from my somber thoughts. I open my eyes, glancing around the courtyard—

And then I see Celena.

“Wait…” I mutter, taking a step forward, “Celena?”

She’s supposed to be asleep in Mournfall…but she’s here. _How_? _Why_?

She disappears around the corner and before I can process it, I’ve broken into a sprint to follow her.

_This is obviously an illusion. A trick._

…but I follow anyway.

For a few moments, I chase her through the castle, all the way outside. She stops midway down the path to town, and I gasp, nearly having reached her—

\--when a portal opens.

I let out a loud yelp, my breath stopping short and my heart jumping into my throat, as I suddenly stand on top of a spire, eyes focused on the-- now tiny-- courtyard below.

The only thing keeping me from falling is a hand wound into my cloak. At first I assume Felix, but when I turn, it’s not him looking back—

“Careful, Anne,” the person purrs, “it’s a long way down.”

This person is dressed in black robes, accentuated with gold. They have brown skin and pink hair, a few streaks of white adding softness to the look. Two horns peek out of their hair, and in place of normal ears are deer-ears. White freckles spot their face, and they are objectively, obviously attractive.

I frown at them.

Their presence doesn’t sit well with me.


	12. Chapter 12

I’m helplessly suspended over the side of Porrima castle, my heart pounding in my ears and my life in the hands of someone in dark robes and bad vibes. This nameless person has a hand in my cloak, and is the only thing keeping me alive right now.

I glance helplessly at the ground dozens of feet below us.

“Ah-ah, Anne,” they tut, making me whip my head up, “chin up, eyes on me.”

My throat constricts—who is this? How do they know my name?

My rescuer pulls me up onto the ramparts, and my stomach does a little flip. I mutter a thanks, eyes flitting around where I had been dangling, heart racing and adrenaline still high.

“Poor little, lost soul, so very far from home,” the ilephta says, making me pause. I’m still coming down from the high of a near death experience, but now I’m also cautious of my rescuer. How could he possibly know my name and that I’m not from here?

My near death experience is the least of my concerns. I feel like I’ll be saying that often in the future.

There’s a familiar air about this person, but not in the way Felix is familiar—this familiarity is cold, and foreboding, and brings out my defensive side.

“I’m not lost.”

I wince inwardly. Okay, not that defensive.

Annoyance flickers across their face and I figure that yeah—that’s fair. Still, they quickly brush it off and replace the annoyance with a grin.

“Pardon my poor manners. I did not mean to offend you.”

I hum, nodding slightly. “Have we met?”

They cock their head to the side, a hand on their hip and curl a strand of hair around their finger, “We have not, but if it is conversation you seek, may I suggest somewhere less precarious?”

I pick at my lower lip, but nod in agreement. They quickly conjure a portal and lead me through. The portal leads back into the courtyard, and I feel my nerves relax at the sound of water trickling down the fountain.

“Who are you?” I turn to face them, crossing my arms, “how do you know my name?”

The stranger presses a hand to their chest, bowing gracefully in a way that reminds me of Felix. I brush it off, figuring it’s just the fact that I can’t stop thinking about him.

…I hope he wasn’t worried about me.

The stranger straightens with a dazzling smile, “I’m simply a weary wanderer recently returned to his home. A reader of stars, if you will.”

I narrow my gaze, “in simpler terms please? Just making sure I got that right.”

I can see the way his jaw clenches, but he nods, “I’m a fortune teller, beholden to the constellations.”

“So you saved me because the stars told you to?” I ask, skeptical. I may be a tarot reader myself, but I don’t really believe in ‘fortune telling’. No one can say for sure what the future holds, we can only read a _possible_ future. Then again, I don’t know if Astraea works the same.

“When my morning reading foretold of a most auspicious meeting,” he hums, then winks, “I had not imagined such a glowing vision of loveliness.”

I flush, biting my lip as I avert my gaze. No one really…flirts with me, and I’m clearly way out of my depth. Aside from how much my gut is screaming at me that this person is dangerous…

The fortune teller casts a glance around the area, presumably looking around for anyone snooping, but I avoid commenting about how this whole place is laden with people listening in. he slides closer, voice dropping to a whisper.

“As the sun alights from it’s lofty zenith, the sea and streets shall run red as the sky above. And you, dear traveler from afar, you shall discover that the unseen knife slices deepest.”

He speaks with a certain edge to his voice that had the hair on my neck standing up.

I furrow my brows, then quirk one as I look at them, “Is that a threat?”

Their red eyes crinkle, and my instincts scream to walk away, but before either of us can speak or move—

“Anne!”

I look to the source of the voice, and my body relaxes at the sight of Felix clambering across the courtyard, stumbling over a bush as he rushes over.

“Here you are!” he gasps, jumping from the yard onto the stone path, hands hovering in front of him. I move to steady him, but then our eyes lock, and we both retract our hands and avert our gazes for a second.

“I—I searched everywhere,” he stammers, seeming a little winded, “I was starting to fear my father had you kidnapped, or turned into a kettle, or worse.” He glances around, “What are you doing here alone?”

I blink in surprise. “Alone? I’m—” I glance around for the fortune teller, but sure enough—they’re gone.

I sigh, “It’s…a long story.”

**Felix**

Anne tells me of Celena’s appearance, and how she chased her down without mulling it over much, and how she was somehow teleported—

…to the RAMPARTS!?

“You almost died!?” I exclaim in horror, my heart racing with secondhand fear, “And—and you only now mention it!?”

Anne winces, “Okay, so maaaaaybe I buried the lede a bit,” she spreads her arms, “but I’m fine! Really!”

****

She may say she’s fine, but I am certainly not. My hands are shaking my face feels unusually cold. I run a hand through my hair, resting it at the nape of my neck as I speak:

“Was there anything else that happened while I was occupied?”

Honestly, “occupied” wasn’t even what I wanted to say. All my father did was interrogate me about Anne. All that I said was of course that it wasn’t any of his business, and that she was my apprentice. That wasn’t untrue, per se, but it still felt weird to out outright.

“There was a fortune teller,” Anne shrugs, pulling me from my thoughts, “it was weird though. He left some kind of warning.”

I frown, rolling my eyes, “Let me guess,” I clear my throat, resuming speaking in a haughty tone: “I sense darkness and despair. Your aura is aubergine. Your tardigrade is retrograde. Beware shovels and kumquats.”

I open my eyes to see Anne stuck somewhere between glaring and being amused at me.

“I should’a known you’d be a cynic,” she says, rolling her eyes. I huff.

“I’m not cynical! I simply believe that if diviners truly existed, they would do a great deal more than peddle petty fortune and horoscope for coin.”

“True,” she says with a nod, “though, I suppose it’s a bad time to mention that I do tarot?”

My eyes widen, and I raise my gaze to meet hers. “What?”

She grins playfully. “Yeah,” she shrugs, “but, well. I agree. With you.”

I furrow my brows, and she snorts at my apparent confusion before she elaborates:

“Reading tarot is like, getting a glimpse into a possible future, not a definitive one. There’s lots of ways to use tarot too, like talking to deities or the dead, or using it as artistic or writing inspiration.”

I purse my lips, nodding along. I did not know the craft was so versatile. I meet her eye again, “What do you use it for?”

She shrugs, “Whatever I need it for. Though, most commonly for talking to my family.” She offers me a bright smile accompanied by a shrug.

“I see.”

A moment of silence interrupts our conversation, and immediately my mind drifts back to the fact that what we can assume is the spirit thief, attacked Anne here—of all places.

“to think,” I sigh, “the spirit thief would attack here, of all places.”

“I find it weird that he attacked me,” Anne says, “I mean. I don’t think I stand out _that_ much. Not particularly special, either.”

My shoulders slump. I wonder briefly how she can think so lowly of herself, before smirking at her, commenting: “I disagree, dear barista,” I pass her wagging my finger, “and you may not stand out, but you are an associate to the son of the archmage, and a necromancer. Not exactly inconspicuous.”

I hear her huff as she follows me outside, “Fair point, fair point.”

“We must return to Fathom,” I say, and catch her nodding in agreement before we hasten our pace towards the exit.

**Anne**

After meeting with Escell we quickly returned to Fathom Tower. We’d agreed that the spirit thief was to be prioritized over getting me home.

_Not that I was in a hurry to get home anyway._

As soon as the wards around the tower come down and we march inside, the sound of skittering feet grabs my attention.

“Uh, Felix?” I say, tugging on his shirt, “do you…hear that?”

“Hm?” he asks, turning to me with a quirked brow. He pauses to listen, then his shoulders slump. “Ah.” He smiles, “There you are,” he says, peering at the floor behind me. I turn to find a peculiar sight.

An opossum, a bearded dragon, and a rat are standing there, one atop of the other, looking up at Felix.

“What,” I blurt, feeling a little shocked.

He blinks at me, then flushes. He averts his gaze, “Ah. Did I not…mention my familiars?”

My eyes widen. “Nooo,” I drawl, “you did not.”

“Ah,” he bites his lip, “pardon me. Ahem,” he clears his throat. The critters skitter across the floor to him. He lifts the opossum, letting the dragon and the rat climb his sleeve. “These are Ophelia, Macbeth and Babayaga,” he says, gesturing to the opossum, the rat, and the bearded dragon.

“Huh,” I say dryly.

For a moment I just stare. Felix clears his throat.

“If you aren’t comfortable I can send them off—”

“No!” I exclaim, stepping forward, the volume surprising us both. I step back, clearing my throat, “I uh. Have no problem with them.” I offer a smile, “I’ve never seen a opossum or a bearded dragon up close though,” I risk stepping forward, “can I pet them?”

Felix hums, “if they let you.”

I hold my hand up to Babayaga is perched on Felix’s shoulder, and I move forward to hold my hand to her nose. She sniffs it, and after a beat of silence, she licks it. I smile. I move my hand to scratch her chin—something she seems to appreciate.

I move to smile at Felix—

\--and my eyes widen when I realize how close I’m standing to him.

I can see a light blush dusting his cheeks from this close, and my own face feels faintly warmer than before, and my lips oddly dry. From this close I can see the black paint on his eyelids, and smell the slight scent of old books and ozone and something I can’t place beyond the fact that it’s floral.

I nearly forget to breathe.

I swallow hard, then move to repeat my approach to Babayaga with Ophelia curled in his arms.

**Felix**

She moves to greet Babayaga, and I hold my breath with her sudden close proximity.

From this close I can see her brown eyes, speckled with lighter spots, yet deep and mesmerizing, deep enough to drown in. I can see her lashes brush against the pale color surrounding her eyes. Her lashes are long and I bet I’d feel them on my skin if we got just a _little_ closer.

I feel my face burn at the thought.

I can’t help but take the moment in which she is distracted by the dragon on my shoulder to look at her lips, painted a darker shade of brown, looking soft to the touch. From this close I can smell her, a bit of cinnamon and earth and…coffee.

She smells _grounding_.

There’s a faint scent of magic surrounding her as well, and I can tell the more she uses magic the more it seeps from her. Magic runs through her blood, which is a mystery of itself, seeing as she is from Earth.

Regardless, it’s intoxicating, and I nearly lose track of time breathing her in.

Then our eyes meet, and I can feel heat warming my face.

She blinks a few times, before moving to pet Ophelia, though she bites her lip, breathing becoming a little strained.

Regretfully, she finally steps away.

I avert my gaze, clearing my throat, “We…we should. The study. Yes.”

“Yeah,” she says, voice airy and light as she nods, “we should…yeah.”

I nod, before turning on my heel and leading us to my study.

We walk in relative silence, allowing for me to clear my head a bit.

It doesn’t take long for my worries to settle in once more, knowing how close Anne brushed with the spirit thief while in my father’s palace. Not to mention the fact that my father called me back into his office, only to interrogate me about Anne.

He’d asked if she was from around Porrima, muttering something about her having some other woman’s eyes. He of course, also wanted to know what Anne means to me. Naturally I didn’t respond beyond the fact that I am teaching her magic. It’s none of his business.

But the fact that Anne felt…familiar to him is…perplexing. And I’m concerned about his curiosity towards her.

I frown as we approach my workshop.

I open the door and immediately storm towards my cabinet in which I keep spell components. Ophelia makes her home on the couch, Babayaga and Macbeth clamber onto the bookshelf above the cabinets, peering down at me.

“I’m a fool for have not thinking to prepare even a few simple protection spells, despite knowing what we are facing,” I grumble.

I comb through the cabinets, taking out spell components and tossing them on the nearby carpet. Anne moves to pet Macbeth, then kneels down beside me and begins sorting the items into piles.

“What’s the plan now?” she asks.

“I intend to ward the fortress; for our protection, and to safeguard my research.”

She hums, nodding, “Makes sense, you’re worried about Lemegeton.”

Worried about—

“And you!” I exclaim as soon as the thought crosses my mind. Anne’s head whips to look at me, and realizing what I’d just admitted to, I feel warmth rush to my face and I clamp my mouth shut. I look away from her, to the shelf, back to her. “That is to say…you saw what happened to Celena: her soul stolen, her body possessed.” I meet her eyes as I speak: “I’ll not see you made into a mindless puppet.”

Something in my voice must give away how concerned I truly am—either that, or Anne has led a very lonely life—as her cheeks darken and eyes widen, lips parting in surprise. I decide that staring at her for too long may give me away, and I look away and take out my glasses. I stand as I ease them on, and promptly begin going through books, opening each one to flip through before tossing them aside.

I hear Anne huff, then pick up the offending tomes. Instead of putting them back, she stacks them in a corner. I get the sense she understands that putting them back would just cause me to look at them again.

“can I help?” Anne asks, standing up, “maybe a hand or two?” she smiles, wiggling her hands at me. I hear the sound of paws on leaves and we both turn to find Stella and Ophelia batting a bundle of dried herbs.

I regard Anne as she shrugs at me, smiling. Briefly I purse my lips, thinking of ways she could help. We haven’t touched upon protective spells or spell components, and I can’t think of anything she could actively help with.

I sigh, “I don’t even know where to begin. There are countless techniques to consider. Do we begin with wards? Salt circles? Charms? And then we must also find time to further your magic skills and--This is all very…” I sigh deeply, resting my forehead on the shelf, “…distressing.”

She hums, “Well. I am kind of like your apprentice,” she tilts her head to the side, “So tell me how I can help you. What do you need?”

“an infinite, self-replenishing wellspring of magic,” I answer in jest.

She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms, “in the realm of realism, if you would.”

“Then a fresh pot of thuban black tea,” I joke again, but find myself smiling wistfully, “…they serve them with sesame spice biscuits at the arboretum. They make the best black tea.”

“Tea?” she perks up, “I can do tea.”

I freeze in the middle of taking out a book. I turn to her as I clutch it tight to my chest, “I must sound like a spoiled child,” I wave her off, “Please, pay no mind to my childish complaints.”

Anne huffs, “They’re not childish. You deserve to take care of yourself every once and a while.”

I inhale sharply, taken slightly by surprise by her. then I let my shoulders drop. “I cannot ask you to make me tea, Anne.”

To that, she smirks, “Wrong! I may not be much of a mage yet, but I am a barista,” she winks, “one pot of tea, coming right up!”

…what?

My mouth drops open, “that—that is completely unnecessary. Surely, you aren’t serious.”

“Oh,” she grins, “Deadly serious.”

She puts her hands on my shoulders, causing my eyes to widen as her warmth seeps through the layers of clothing. She gently begins walking me back, and my face grows hotter with every passing second—

Until I bump into the couch. I frown at her, stubbornly remaining upright.

“Now is not the time to stand by idly,” I say.

“Then sit,” she says, proceeding to push me down.

My face burns at the action, and I can only pretend to not to for a minute before her intent stare has my knees giving out.

She rests her hands on my shoulders, a smirk sneaking onto her lips. She’s so close I feel her breath hot on my skin…

I huff, flushed beyond belief, “Satisfied?”

She grins, a slight blush decorating her cheeks, “Very.”

Finally she releases me, rounding the couch and walking to the kitchenette.

“Take off your jacket, stay a while,” she adds sarcastically. “s’ not like you’re going anywhere anytime soon.”

I huff, but shrug off my coat as I reply, “must you fuss over me so?”

“yes, I must,” she winks over her shoulder, “don’t act like you don’t love it.”

I grumble, flustered. She’s got me there.

I twist around to look at Anne at the kitchenette, the animals curling up around me, “What am I supposed to do, then?”

She looks over her shoulder, smirking, “you’re smart, I’m sure you can figure out how to chill.”

She turns back to investigate the stove, and I take a moment to recover from the effect her smugness had on me.

I see her refill the kettle with water, and watch as she places it on the stovetop. She moves away to get a better view of the kitchen, probably searching for a way to turn on the stove. She’s clearly deep in thought as she scratches the back of her neck, rubbing her left toe on her right calf.

An idea comes to mind to get back at her for her smugness moments ago, and I smirk as I snap my fingers. The stove flickers to life with the fire I conjure under it.

Clearly startled, Anne whips around, eyes wide. I smirk.

“You’re welcome.”

Her cheeks darken, but she’s quick to play it off by putting her hands on her hips and pouting at me. I offer her a grin and bat my eyelashes, and she rolls her eyes, turning back to the kitchen. I pick up a book lying nearby and begin to read.

After awhile, the water starts to boil.

“how strong?” Anne asks.

“Oh you know,” I hum, glancing up, “Suitably so.”

She winks, playfully saluting, “Yes sir.”

She turns away, thankfully missing how my cheeks catch on fire—and how I press my legs together. I doubt she misses the strangled noise that escapes my throat, though.

_How can she already have such an effect on me?_

**Anne**

I pour a big clump of leaves into the kettle, flinching a little at the splash it creates. As the tea sets, I glance over my shoulder.

“Where do you keep the cups?” I ask.

Felix, not bothering to look up from his book, snaps his fingers, and a cup appears before me, floating in mid-air. I pluck it out of the air, and pour the tea. Once I’m ready, I slowly walk over to him, cradling the hot cup carefully.

“Here you are,” I hum, holding it to him.

He smiles, though I can tell he’s trying not to as he remarks: “You needn’t wait on me hand and foot, you know—”

He cuts himself off when he reaches out to take the cup, and our hands brush. Lightning sparks where we touched, and my face burns as he glances up, surprise painted on his face.

“Uh—” I say, extremely flustered and currently rendered ineloquent, “um. Care—Careful. It’s uh—hot.”

He swallows, nodding minutely. Then he offers me a smile, “Allow me.”

An awkward game of tug of war follows, and it seems like neither of us can think straight long enough for us to remember how to use our hands. Somehow, Felix’s hands end up around mine. They’re colder than the cup, but send lightning sparks up my arms. He chuckles under his breath, and I feel as though his next words weren’t meant for me to hear:

“Well, this is a fine mess…why are your hands so warm?”

I can’t help but let out a light laugh, “I mean, the cup is really, _really_ hot.”

The effect of my words is immediate—Felix’s brows raise, realization dawning on his face.

“OH!” he gasps, and quickly takes the cup from me. I giggle lightly as I shake out my tingling hands. He raises the cup to his lips, but pauses with a hum.

“I should thank you,” he says, “you always seem to know how to cheer me up when I am need of it. Makes me wonder how I ever managed without you.”

I hum with a smile. He has a point—I think back to Mournfall, and how I somehow managed to cheer him up after his disbute with the others, and to Porrima, where I cheered him up after the encounter with his dad. And he too, has helped me.

“It goes both ways you know,” I smile, sitting down next to him, “you cheer me up too.”

We share a brief smile.

Then he takes a careful sip. His eyes widen.

“This is perfect.”

I laugh, “Yes! I’m good at what I do! Shocking, isn’t it?”

He scoffs, playfully rolling his eyes as he lightly nudges me.

That was how our time at Fathom began—with a pot of tea and some spell books.


	13. Chapter 13

**Anne**

That same afternoon, we get to work on preparing wards for the tower.

“There are three different spells I want to cast on the tower,” Felix explains as we walk into a big room, each of us holding a box of supplies. The boxes are filled with candles, books, crystals and bundles of herbs. We set the boxes down on the long table that fills most of the room.

“Technically there is a fourth,” he muses, “but I will only cast that one whenever we leave. The other three are a bit more complex.”

I hum, nodding along as he explains. He explains that we need to go buy herbs from Porrima for one of the wards. We will need to burn them over a fire in the courtyard, ideally on a full or new moon, but that isn’t necessary. The second one requires herbs we already have, crystals and wax. The crystals have to sunbathe, and the herbs must be sprinkled with moonwater, so that one has to wait as well. The last one is a verbal spell, which is a bit more complicated.

“2 decades ago,” Felix explains as we lay out the materials we have on the table, “there was a family of nobles researching other types of magic. Much of their research was lost, as they erased it for unknown reasons, but before their disappearance, they introduced bardic magic.”

“Bardic magic…” I echo, tilting my head. The game never had anything like that. “We talked about this the other day, right?”

Felix nods, “it’s the practice of using music for spells. R—” Felix starts, but inhales sharply, cutting himself off. He seems to struggle for how to say whatever he was wanting to. Finally, his shoulders relax. “Our captain,” he says, slowly, sadly, “he and I were tasked to create a ward for Fathom. We worked together to research possible wards—powerful ones—and we learned about Bardic magic. We decided to use that, as so little was known about it. It included a lot of guesswork, and lots of failure, but we managed to create a ward.”

I hum. I get the feeling talking about this is hard for him, so I ignore my curiosity and decide not to ask him about the captain more. “Are we using that one?”

He nods, meeting my gaze, “the issue is, it is…an emotional spell.”

I quirk a brow, “What do you mean?”

Felix closes his eyes, straightening, “bardic magic relies on the intent of the castor. As far as we can tell, the stronger the emotion the better the result. Bardic spells have—historically—been most successful when cast by people with strong bonds to each other.”

I nod, carefully sorting out the information.

“So,” I say slowly, deliberately, “when you and your captain cast it…I’m assuming you were very close?”

He swallows, wringing his hands, “…yes.”

I purse my lips, “I think making a new spell would be too much work. You should just cast it on your own and hope it’s enough.”

“I cannot cast it on my own,” he says, and I look up, finding him looking at me. “We must cast it together.”

My eyes widen, and I suck in a breath. The afternoon sun shines through the window, painting Felix’s face in beautiful shades of gold, and the sight takes my breath away.

I frown, then. The captain and Felix were clearly close, and I suspect he was the one Felix was hoping for the night we met. If that’s true…I don’t know if we are even close enough.

“How do you know it’ll work?” I ask. He frowns.

“I—I do not. Not fully. But I am fairly certain it will.” He looks at me, “I can teach you the song we wrote to cast it, and you can decide after. Alright?”

My lips quirk up, “you wrote a song?”

He flushes, and he averts his gaze, and my heart squeezes at the sight as he huffs, “Yes, well. We did. To—to be certain it worked.”

I grin, “Okay,” he whips his head to regard me with wide eyes as I nod, “Let’s try it. Teach me the song, E-Prince.”

He rolls his eyes, but I see the way his lips quirk at my nickname. I smile.

“Right,” he says, heading for the door, “then follow me. We need a different room for this.”

I nod, following him as we begin our trek through the fortress.

Felix and I walk in silence to a deeper part of the structure, but it isn’t uncomfortable, or oppressive. It’s quite comfortable, actually. We round a corner, finding Ophelia and Stella sitting in the low sunlight. When they hear us approach, they perk up, and wind up following us.

Eventually, we reach an unassuming door, and Felix turns to me.

“This is a room he had made for us, as Fathom Tower hadn’t needed a music room until then.”

I nod as the door opens, revealing a room with only three instruments: a grand piano, a violin, and a guitar. All three seem in perfect shape.

“Wow,” I sigh, walking to the piano and taking a seat, “When was the last time these were used?” I open the piano, and press a key. The sound is clear, and it sounds like it’s been kept well.

“Five years,” Felix says, coming to sit down next to me, “it’s not been used since…” he falters for a moment, “the war.”

My shoulders slump. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Well,” I tilt my head to the side, regarding him with a smile as our eyes meet, “I think it’s high time they’d be used again, no?”

Felix looks at me, gray eyes examining my face before crinkling with his smile. “Yes,” he nods, placing his hands on the keys of the piano, “it is.”

Felix and I spend the afternoon going through the song, attempting to play it a few times, but eventually stopping when our laughter over my jumbled lyrics makes it impossible to see straight. Still, Felix patiently guides me through the cords and the lyrics, never once making me feel like an idiot for not getting it first try.

By the time the sun sets, and our stomachs start grumbling in protest, my chest hurts from laughter, and my fingers are sore from playing the piano.

Xxx

**Felix**

Anne is a talented musician, that much I could tell simply from how she managed to memorize the lyrics of the song already. I can tell that even though we can not replicate the exact emotions Rime and I felt at the time we crafted the ward—there will be other strong emotions, strong enough to power the spell, even if it is not Romantic love.

At the very least, it could be platonic love.

Anne and I pass through the portal, arriving in the port of Porrima. During lunch we noticed that I was low on food, and we agreed to go out for dinner, then go grocery shopping in the morning. And so, here we are, at the Porriman evening market.

“I think it’s safe to assume,” I hum, “you wouldn’t have any kind of Porriman cuisine on earth, correct?”

I glance to my side, where Anne is, and find my train of thought derailed at the sight of her—a bright, excited grin on her face, her eyes alight with wonder at the Porriman city lights, dancing off her form. Then she turns to me, and swallowing loudly is the only way I can keep myself from reacting too much.

“Correct,” she nods, her expression becoming a little less…awed. “I only know what was in the game, which is probably outdated by like. 30 or 40 years.”

I clear my throat, forcing myself to look away from her as I nod, “I see.” I glance around. There’s nothing very noteworthy on the port, and I hum. I glance back at her, “Follow me. We will go to where most restaraunts are, and we can take a look there.”

She hums, nodding, “Sounds good. Lead the way!”

Soon enough we agree on a place. It overlooks the port from above, and due to it being closer to the residential district, is much quieter. As soon as we sit down, Anne lets out a sigh.

I smirk, “that out of shape?”

She opens her eyes, then huffs, sitting up, “No. It’s just been loud. It’s a little…” she bites her lip, “exhausting. That’s all.” She chuckles, “It’s the ADHD.” 

I hum. “is it really?”

She nods slowly, “it is. Adhd affects a lot, my balance, my ability to regulate my anger and not punch things, my ability to not cry at every little thing, it causes random panic attacks sometimes. It inhibits my ability to fall asleep within 5-10 minutes—”

“Wait,” I interrupt, “people are supposed to be able to fall asleep that quickly?”

She laughs, “Yes! Wack, isn’t it?”

I huff, “I’ll say. That seems fake.”

“It’s true,” she nods, “but, yeah. I get overwhelmed by sounds if I’m tired.”

“How do you usually deal with that?” I ask, openly curious. She shrugs.

“Look for a quiet place or drown it out with music.”

“and if neither were available?”

She shrugs, playful smile on her lips, “I suffered.” Despite her smile, I can tell she’s exhausted.

I frown. “Next time you experience overstimulation like that,” I hum, tracing a line in the table with my finger, “I can cast a silencing spell around us, so please. Don’t hesitate to let me know.”

I glance up, meeting her eye, and I find them wide, and her cheeks slightly flushed. “Uh…” she says, then flushes deeper, clearing her throat, “Yeah, okay. Will do.”

Shortly after, a waiter takes our order. Once they’re gone, I lean forward.

“Do you know what kind of magic you’d like to focus on when we get the chance?” I ask. At first she just looks at me, then she laughs, and I frown, face heating. My confusion mixes with my embarrassment, and I huff. “Why are you laughing? Did I say it in a ridiculous manner?”

She giggles, shaking her head, “No! No, of course not. It’s just, hehe,” she grins at me, the candlelight flickering in her deep brown eyes and captivating me, “don’t you ever _not_ think about studying?”

I purse my lips, “Is it wrong to be curious?”

“Well, no,” she shifts in her seat, “but you could take a breather here and there. Do something…mindless for once. Or something just because it’s fun.”

“studying magic is fun,” I pout. She rolls her eyes.

“I’m not saying it’s not,” she shrugs, “I’m just saying you can’t rely on one thing to get you through. You’ll just burn yourself out.”

I frown. “I don’t just study.” I huff, closing my eyes, “I read, too.”

“Oh yea?” she leans forward, resting her chin in her hand, “what do you read?”

I flush. _Oh, just smutty romance novels, no big deal._

“Romance,” I say, feeling heat rise to my face, “um. Romance. And Adventure.”

She smiles, clearly suspecting nothing, “I love romance stories. Especially when combined with found family tropes and adventures. I’m writing my own, featuring a princess and the king of thieves.” She hums, “I was drawn to Last Legacy because of the character designs, though. Everyone was drawn so adorably, and all the characters were so attractive.”

She’s mentioned the game once or twice, and I find myself intrigued. “The one you knew Astraea from?”

She nods, “Yep. As far as I can tell, the only character in game who is relevant to you, Sage and Anisa is your dad, but—” she glances around, then leans forward and whispers, “—I think Anisa’s mom was in the game too, but shhh! You didn’t hear that from me.”

She plops down into her seat as I try to (unsuccessfully) stifle my smile. “Tell me more about Last Legacy, will you?”

It’s really just an excuse to keep hearing her voice, but she beams, immediately getting into it. She tells me of the game’s story, the quests, how she poured hours and days into solving unsolved secrets and gathering lore and timelines and unlocking character secrets. She eventually has to explain about “LGBT” when getting into her “headcanons”, but by the time we’ve finished eating, I think to have at least learned some things:

  1. I, if I went to earth, would identify as trans.
  2. If I had to pick a character to play, there would be 7 mages to choose from, one of which being a necromancer
  3. Anne is bisexual, and headcanons many of her favorites as such.



As we finish up our meal, I hum.

“We should return to Fathom,” I announce, “the hour grows late, and we should try to avoid the Porriman night market unless we absolutely must go.”

(Mainly because I’m concerned about Anne, but I figure telling her as much would be a poor choice.)

Anne stretches, then nods. “Hmmm…sounds good. We’re coming back for groceries tomorrow, correct?”

I nod, and she smiles. “Awesome. Then, yeah, let’s pay and get going.”

With that settled, the evening comes to a close.

Xxx

**Anne**

I learn very fast that Felix isn’t a morning person. The following day we don’t get out of Fathom until after lunch, even though we’d meant to be out way earlier. I can’t find it in me to mind, as it gave me the chance to read some more on healing magic.

Regardless, we manage to make it to the Porriman market, and spend a good hour wandering the stalls. Every here and there, Felix points out a food, explaining briefly what it is. Sometimes we pass stalls with accessories, or clothes, and every time I slow down to look, Felix offers to buy me something.

I decline, every time, but I think he makes a mental note of me staring very intently at a set of celestial body themed jewelry…

Before long, Felix is gearing up to return to Fathom.

“Ere we depart,” he says, making me perk up, “there is but one last place I want to stop by.”

I smile, “You know me. I’m always up for an adventure with you.”

He flushes, eyes widening, and I can’t help the widening of my smile as he stammers: “Oh…er. Excellent. This way.” He clears his throat, and we set off.

Deeper into the market is an area seemingly reserved for writing supplies and books. Vendors peddle notebooks, scrolls, quills, ink and books. Muted sunlight filters through the tears of the tarps overhead, and the air grows thick with the smell of books the longer we stay.

I inhale the smell like it’s fresh ocean air. I feel Felix’s eyes on me, and when I meet his gaze, I catch him smiling.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” he sighs, “had I all the time in all the realms, I’d spend it here.”

I snort. “I don’t blame you, but, Felix,” I giggle, “you practically live in a library.”

He shrugs, “one can never have too many books.”

I laugh, “Fair, fair.”

Felix hums, expression neutralizing, “feel free to browse. I’ll only be a moment.”

I perk up, “I can go with you.”

His eyes widen, and he immediately starts waving his hands and shaking his head. “Oh, no, no! Have a look around,” he smiles uncertainly, averting his gaze, “I’ll be back before you know it!” there’s an edge of panic to his voice, and that, along with his tight lipped smile quirks my curiosity.

_He’s definitely hiding something,_ I think as he scurries off.

…before I can think twice, I follow him.

I stay a decent distance away, cautious as to not be discovered. After some careful maneuvering through the stalls, I spot him at a booth at the corner, gesturing wildly with a book as he talks to two merchants. He looks really excited.

When he pauses to look at the cover, his face lights up, and I nearly forget to breathe. Seeing Felix this happy is…rare, to say the least. Regardless, the sight makes me fall a little harder for him.

I notice that I’m standing next to a stack of books that are identical to the one he’s (probably) talking about. The cover reads “Sea Bound”, and a picture of a wilting rose is under the text. I don’t consider twice before opening the book.

‘ _Chadrick, demon hunter, set sail across the shimmering Suhail, guided by his trusty compass and his all consuming desire. Nothing could quell the storm of lust brewing in Chadrick’s tight leather pants.’_

I blink. That is so…not what I was expecting.

…is this what he meant with “Romance Adventures”?

I flip through the book, towards the middle, just to…confirm my suspicions.

‘That fire in his eyes was no match for the heat rising in Chadrick’s heaving bosom and aching loins.’

…I skip towards the end.

‘With a needy whine, Chadrick fell quivering to his knees, his lips brushing the polished black boot before him…and thus, with the archdemon satisfied, was peace finally brokered with the sea dragons of Denebola.’

I bite my lip, idly wondering what else Felix could be hiding in that vast library of his. I wonder if he’d be willing to let me read some…

I wonder just how often he reads this sort of thing.

I’m so distracted by the thought of Felix reading smutty novels, that at the sound of his voice, I nearly jump out of my own skin:

“Anne!”

I flinch so hard I nearly give myself whiplash as I turn to stare at him, wide eyed and looking a lot like a deer in headlights. Felix stares at me with a mix of fear and mortification, a bundle of books wrapped in paper tucked under his arm.

“Heeey, Felix,” I drawl, attempting to play off my surprise by tucking my hands behind my back, but I can’t help myself from taking my chance to tease him, “What’ve you got there?”

“These?” his voice is slightly panicked, cheeks darkening as he stammers, “they, uh. They’re for my sister, obviously.”

….right.

He flushes a little darker, “you…weren’t reading that, were you?”

I grin, “What? This? No way!” I shrug, “I mean, not that I would judge. Nothing wrong with bondage demons, sexy dragons and plots with dozens of holes in them.”

He lets out a scandalized gasp, “you _did_ read it!”

I giggle loudly, my face flushed with warmth. I try to stifle it behind my fist, but it’s no use—Felix heard me already, and glares at me, though there is no malice in his eyes, just intense embarrassment.

“Sorry,” I shrug, collecting myself. I hum, “That’s not for your sister, is it?”

Felix hangs his head, deflating. With a sigh, he admits: “…it’s for me.”

I smile, less smug and more genuine. “I didn’t know you were into steamy novels.”

He purses his lips, “Steamy novels? This is an adventure.”

I cross my arms, “Yeah, an adventure in being tied up maybe.”

He blushes hard and opens his mouth to retort, but obviously can’t find a strong enough argument to counter with as he simply swallows hard. He averts his gaze, looking anywhere but my face. I bite my lip. I feel bad for teasing him like that, now…

I decide to risk speaking my mind.

“Could I read it when you’re done?”

His gaze whips to look at me, wide eyed and a little hopeful. I shrug with a smile.

“You’d want that?” he asks, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. I nod.

He puffs out his chest, “Well, you really must start with the first novella, or the subplot about the werebat clan will make little sense.”

I blink, “Uh, yeah. Seems like it.” He gives me a small smile before glancing away again, and I can’t help but shake my hands a bit to get rid of the extra energy it gives me. Still, I speak up once more:

“Honestly, I’m happy to see you indulging in your hobbies. Knowing is one thing, but another to see it in practice.”

He huffs, blushing again, “I have other hobbies you know.”

“I mean,” I grin, “it’s nice seeing what excites you—”

He winces. I snort.

“—or interests you,” I shrug, “I would never guess you’d be into this stuff.”

He smirks, “Well, maybe you shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover, then.”

I roll my eyes, “Seriously? A book pun?”

He he raises his hand to his mouth to hide his smile, but his shoulders shake with laughter. The sight makes my heart soar as he speaks: “Forgive me, couldn’t resist.”

“You’re a nerd,” I comment. He scoffs.

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black, dear Barista.”

I bite my lip as he turns to lead the way out of the alley, “Loathe as I am to leave, we ought to make our way back to Fathom ere the sun sets.”

I hum, nodding as I follow him, “I’m right behind you, Mr. Necromancer.”

He throws me an incredulous look, shaking his head when I grin at him. Together, we return to Fathom.

**Felix**

We return to Fathom and only have a brief window of time for Anne’s magic lesson, but we do what we can. Before long we are in the kitchens, preparing dinner and…how Anne put it: “goofing around.”

We return to the workshop to continue our research, only for the sound of thunder outside to distract us.

“It’s storming,” Anne remarks. I nod.

“Indeed it is.”

There’s shuffling, then suddenly I feel Anne’s presence right next to me. Looking up I see her right in my face, smiling. I frown, quirking a brow.

“We should take a break,” she tilts her head to the side, “kick back, relax. Maybe have a drink or two. You work so hard all the time…you can afford to take it easy sometimes.”

I huff. I want to keep working, but when I look at her—

I can’t say no to her.

I sigh. “Fine—” she lets out a cheer of victory, “—I’ll get glasses and wine.”

She grins, “Perfect! I’ll make it nice and cozy here!”

As I leave, I can see her snuffing out a few lights and gathering blankets and pillows. I shake my head with a smile.

_How can any person be this cute?_

As I walk through Fathom, I remember that I still haven’t told her about Rime. The have been times where it would’ve been ideal to talk about, but every time I seem to miss the chance.

…I wonder if tonight will be different.

Xxx

Somehow we end up drinking wine and reading a very…amusing “steamy” novel, laughing together well into the night. Eventually, Anne’s head is resting on my shoulder, and my ability to think much before talking starts to dwindle.

“have you ever had sex so bad you cried?” I ask, relating to the book we’d just finished. For a second, Anne just looks at me with mild amusement. Finally, she shakes her head.

“Yeah,” she says, “well. Almost.” She sits up, and I miss the weight of her head on my shoulder immediately as she draws her knees to her chest, resting her cheek on them. I need not prompt her to continue.

“When I was 20, and my folks died, I was wandering aimlessly for a while. At one point I met this guy, Isaac. We were dating for a few years, but during that time he didn’t make me orgasm _once_ , so I think that pretty much speaks for itself.” She gives a laugh, “I don’t even know if he knows that people with vaginas _can_ orgasm. And I haven’t even mentioned how he never let us experiment. No power play petnames, or restraints—all very vanilla, which I don’t mind, just.” She sighs. “You get the point. Very uncreative, and boring.”

I snort, “he sounds like a lost cause,” I bring my glass to my lips, “you deserve better.”

She hums absentmindedly, eyes flickering to the floor, then back to my face, “what about you? Have you had sex so bad you cried?”

I snort, “No,” I grin, smug, “I’ve had sex so _good_ I made someone cry.”

She flushes, biting her lip, then lets out a laugh, “Oh really?” I decide I’m drunk enough to continue.

“Yes,” I nod, “Rime always made a point to let me know how good I am.”

“Rime?”

“Rime was my partner,” I explain, “my sexual partner, my romantic partner, my partner in research…and, he was also…our captain.”

She blinks rapidly. “Your captain? Are there no laws here prohibiting romance between knights?”

“Only between people of differing ranks,” I shrug, “thus the reason no one knew.”

“Even Anisa? And Sage?”

I let out a chuckle, “are you joking? They would be the last people I would tell.”

“Does anyone else know?”

I shake my head, meeting her openly curious gaze as I respond: “No one aside from you and my family.”

A pause. Then she blushes, deadpanning: “Oh.”

I can’t help but smile. “Oh, indeed.”

She huffs, shoving me playfully, “Jerk.”

“Smartass,” I huff, playfully nudging her back. I shake my head, “Actually…Rime was a healer, and that Relic you have…was his.”

She hums, nodding. “I see. Why didn’t you tell Sage and Anisa, then?”

I shake my head, “I…felt as though they would overreact. I…did not want to deal with them knowing.”

She nods, “I understand,” she smiles, leaning on my shoulder again, “your secret’s safe with me.”

I smile, “much appreciated.”

Somewhere between our meeting and now, I had grown used to her touch. I’d forgotten she never asked if it was okay, and it surprises me when she does so now.

“Is it even okay for me to be touching you?”

I hum, “tis fine. I am not made of glass, you know.”

She laughs, shifting closer, “true, true. I never meant to make you feel that way.”

I hum, nodding.

Shortly after that, our conversation ceased, and we agreed to sleep for the night. That was how our first day in Fathom ended, with a glass of wine and talking about our…”wonky”, as Anne put it, love lives.


End file.
